. . AND . . 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


STORE. 
F*    B  OO1TFIN. 

Orh&GAlNESSTS. 

-fl.Z2.3Z. 


f.  JS,  (Sofftn. 


COFFIN'S  POEMS 


with 


Ajax'  Ordeals 


F.  B.  Coffin 


MTTLK  ROCK,  ARKANSAS: 

The  Colored  Advocate,  Printers  and  Binders. 

1897. 


Copyright  1897  by 
F.  B.  Coffin. 


PS 

1357 

cuiAn 


Dedicated 

FIRST. 

To  the  memory 
Of  that  angelic  woman, 

Who  claimed  me  as  her  son  ; 
Of  that  majestic  woman, 

Whose  race  on  earth  was  run  — 
Long  before  I  was  old  enough, 

To  reason  right  from  wrong; 
Long  before  I  listened  to 

Redemption's  saving  song. 
Of  that  Christ  loving  woman, 

Who's  now  at  Jesus'  home, 
Who  sits  and  talks  with  angels, 

And  with  archangels  roam. 

SECOND. 
To  the  conscience  of  the  nation, 

With  the  hopes  that  it  may  rise 
To  the  point  of  elevation 

That  will  open  up  its  eyes, 
And  lend  to  us  a  list'ning  ear, 

For  the  pitiful  tale  of  woe, 
That  Ajax*  cannot  sleep  at  night 

For  lynchers  are  aglow. 


75948O 


They  burn  poor  Ajax  at  the  stake, 

They  hang  him  to  a  tree ; 
They  chop  him  up  like  sausage  meat, 

From  home  they  make  him  flee. 


*The  latter  part  of  this  volume  will  explain 
who  Ajax  is. 


Preface. 

Brief  is  our  life  here,  precious  is  the  time, 
and  great  the  work  to  do,  and  a  few  thoughts 
in  print  has  the  possibility  of  a  longer  life  than 
a  man.  "  The  night  cometh  when  no  man  can 
work." 

How  sweet,  if  it  might  be,  that  when  the 
day  is  ended,  we  may  have  left  some  watch 
words  still  ringing  in  the  ears  of  those  who 
come  after  us.  And  I  may  be  permitted  to 
hope  that  these  meditations  may  have  such 
power,  in  their  modest  way.  They  will  be 
easily  passed  by  but  may  have  a  message  for 
hearts  that  will  look  and  listen. 

There  is,  certainly  in  this  age,  a  want  of 
writing  that  shall  restand  brace  the  mind.  It 
is  well  to  extend  natural  and  spontaneous 
thoughts,  especially  that  which  the  heart  has 
laid  by  in  store.  We  must  be  militant  here  on 
earth,  militant  against  every  form  of  error. 

If,  during  the  period  of  American  Slavery, 
any  Anglo-Saxon  raised  his  voice  or  moved 
his  pen  in  the  interest  of  the  stolen  and  op 
pressed  African,  thai  man  was  marked, reviled 
and  ostracised  as  if  he  was  affected  with  the 
leprosy.  No  historian  could  write  a  true  re- 


FUTURE. 

In  this  age  ideal  frivolity  supersedes  stern 
reality.  In  most  of  our  large  cities  in  the 
South — outside  of  the  college  societies — there 
are  no  permanent,  genuine  literary  organiza 
tions  among  our  so  called  intelligent  people 
for  elevation. 

They  meet  socially  with  no  definite  purpose 
to  social  elevation.  They  meet  religiously 
with  their  souls  on  fashion  and  God  as  secon 
dary.  They  never  meet  intellectually.  These 
talents  grow  up  in  thorns  and  thistles.  Noth 
ing  to  inspire  our  youths  to  merit.  Position, 
irrespective  to  character  or  ability,  reigns  su 
preme.  Thousands  of  youths  grow  up  under 
this  poisonous  atmosphere  in  the  large  cities. 
But  it  is  encouraging  to  see  that,  from  the 
smaller  towns,  the  college  walls(our  safe 
guards)  are  filled  with  youths  preparing  them 
selves  to  meet  the  demands  of  future  times. 

What  is  the  worth  of  fashion,  style,  and 
social  ethics  if  it  does  not  add  to  the  world 
better,  nobler,  truer,  sounder,  more  reliable 
men  from  its  factory?  Time  will  not  attempt 
to  test  their  logic  but  will,  eventually,  weigh 
the  results.  AUTHOR. 


At  My  Mother's  Grave. 

I  never  see  the  burial  place, 
Where  my  dear  mother  lies ; 
But  that  I  think  I  see  her  face, 
Peak  at  me  through  the  skies. 

I  stand  around  her  sacred  mound, 
And  think  she  knows  I'm  there; 
I  kneel  upon  the  sacred  ground 
And  lisp  her  evening  prayer. 

Her  fav'rite  hymn  I  then  repeat, 
With  accents  all  her  own ; 
We  seem  to  meet  at  Jesus'  feet, 
And  linger  near  His  throne. 

She  sleeps  within  her  narrow  cot, 
Safe  "tucked  in"  from  the  night; 
Resigned,  I  leave  the  solemn  spot, 
"God  doeth  all  things  right." 


12  OUR  COUNTRY. 

What  an  hour  it  must  have  been 
For  a  woman's  tender  heart, 

When  the  pityless,  rough  lynchers, 
Tore  she'nd  her  husband  apart. 

And  while  the  mother  clasped  her  hands 
And  the  children  wept  and  prayed ; 

The  whole  family  made  struggles, 
And  shrieked  to  heaven  for  aid. 

The  atrocities  of  Russia 

Against  the  thriving  Jew, 
And  the  horrors  of  Liberia, 

Would  disappear  from  view. 

Mob  violence  against  China, 

And  all  the  heathen  lands; 
Is  far  surpassed  by  lynch  law, 

In  this,  our  Southern  land. 

If  we  ask  ourselves  the  question 
"Why  do  they  lynch  the  Negro?" 

Our  hearts  respond  full  sadly, 
"They,  nor  we,  do  not  know." 

We've  asked  the  wise  in  every  age, 
And  searched  the  universe  around ; 

But  neither  scientist  nor  sage, 

An  answer  to  the  quest  has  found. 


OUR  COUNTRY.  13 

Is  it  God's  will,  what  seer  can  tell? 

(Thus  do  our  anxious  thoughts  revolve) 
Or  is  there  not  borne  oracle, 

That  can  or  will  the  problem  solve? 

Are  we  but  phantoms,  with  no  cause, 
But  chance  from  cradle  to  the  grave; 

Or  those  inexorable  laws 

Of  which  agnostics  boast  and  rave? 

Or  are  we  orphans  with  no  home, 
With  none  whom  we  can  father  call ; 

As  outcasts  here  a  while  to  roam, 

And  then  pass  off  with  "  death  ends  all?" 

No !  let  us  not  discouraged  be 

But  hope  and  ever  pray 
That  wrong  and  inhumanity, 

May  cease  to  be  some  day. 

While  the  storms  of  life  are  raging 

Lynching  wild  in  our  land, 
Can  we  find  a  better  refuge 

Than  the  shadow  of  God's  hand? 

But  what  shall  cleanse  our  country 

From  all  this  painful  guilt, 
The  blood  of  freemen  shed  by  freemen, 

Upon  her  bosom  spilt? 


14  OUR  COUNTRY. 

When  the  pilgrim  fathers  came 

From  far  across  the  sea ; 
Their  purposes  were  nobler  than 

The  lynching  of  the  free. 

Wrhen  Washington  at  Valley  Forge 

Endured  the  winter's  pain, 
And  when  he  crossed  the  Deleware 

'Twas  all  for  freedom's  name. 

He  knew  not  that  a  cent'ry  hence, 
The  flag  for  which  he  fought ; 

Wrould  be  disgraced  by  lynching  men, 
By  taking  life  for  naught. 

When  Lincoln  gave  that  mighty  stroke, 
When  Sherman  reached  the  sea, 

When  Grant  took  Appomatax, 
Their  cry  was  liberty. 

When  John  Brown  laid  his  body  down 
And  his  soul  went  marching  on, 

He  knew  not  that  his  cause  would  be 
Disgraced  by  this  great  wrong. 

Could  these  great  men  speak  back  today 

From  their  resting  domain; 
They'd  whisper  all  in  one  accord, 

"Our  blood  was  spilt  in  vain." 


OUR  COUNTRY.  17 

Dear  native  land,  a  newer  page 

Must  turn  as  time  moves  by ; 
Shall  that  page  be  brighter, 

Or  shall  thy  greatness  die? 

Thou  hast  a  noble  government, 

And  'tis  with  trembling  heart, 
That  we  see  what  thou  appearest 

And  look  on  what  thou  art. 

We've  wept  till  we  could  not  weep, 
And  the  pain  of  our  burning  eyes 

Has  gone  into  our  aching  hearts, 
And  now  the  nation  cries. 

Earth  uplifts  a  general  cry, 

For  all  this  guilt  and  wrong; 
And  heaven's  ears  are  listening 

To  the  suff'rers'  wailing  song. 

Who'll  interpret  this  mystery? 

Even  the  common  dust 
Under  the  feet  of  the  guilty 

Cries  out  "this  crime's  unjust." 

But  we  shall  see  the  day, 

When  risrht  shall  surely  reign ; 
When  at  the  bar  of  conscience, 

The  guilty  sljall  be  slain. 


-OUR  COUNTRY. 


It  may  be  when  Ida  Wells'  lessons  have   been 

learned 

The  lynchers  sun  forever  more  has  set, 
The  things  which  our  weak  judgment  here  have 

spurned, 

The  things  o'er  which  we've  grieved  with  lash 
es  wet, 

Will  flash  before  them  out  of  life's  dark  night 
As  stars  shine  most  in  deeper  tints  of  blue. 
And  they  shall  see  how  all  her  plans  were  right 
And  how  what  seemed  reproof  was  love  most 

true; 

And  when  those  nations  far  across  the  sea 
Begin  to  point  o'er  here  the  finger  of  shame, 
And  show  our  state  the   depth  of  all  these 

crimes, 
I  think  she  will  take  steps  to  stop  the  same. 

You  know  that  prudent  parents  disallow 
Too  much  of  sweet  to  craving  babyhood ; 
So  God,  perhaps,  is  holding  from  us  now 
Life's  sweetest  things  because  it  seemethgood, 
And  they  shall  shortly    know  that  lengthened 

breath 
Is  not  the  sweetest  gift  Godsends  His  friends, 


ONLY.  19 

And  that  sometimes  the  sable  pall  of  death 
Conceals  the  fairest  boon  His  love  can  send. 
And  if  through  all  this  strife  we  live  to  stand 
Where  ourmindsfromlynchingnews  may  rest, 
Then  we  shall  clearly  know  and  understand ; 
1  think  that  all  will  say  "God  knew  the  best." 


Only. 

Only  Afric's  jungles 

Satisfied  his  mind, 
While  the  happy  Negro 

On  his  couch  reclined. 

Only  a  human  trading  ship 
Coasting  along  the  shore, 

The  Negro  knew  not  whither 
Still  he  had  to  go. 

Only  a  "Star  Spangled  banner," 
The  Negro  saw  it  wave, 

But  he  saw  not  "land  of  free" 
Neither  "home  of  brave." 

Only  slavery's  hardships 
The  Negro  bore  for  years, 

On  through  the  wilderness 
With  headaches  and  tears. 


20  ONLY. 


Only  John  Brown's  body 
Is  moulding  in  the  clay, 

Yet  his  soul  is  marching, 
Showing  us  the  way. 

Only  Bull  Run's  battle, 
Up  sprang  General  Grant, 

Four  long  years  of  bloodshed, 
Freedom  was  the  chant. 

Only  Abraham  Lincoln 
Gave  the  mighty  stroke, 

And  four  million  Negroes 
Lost  the  slavish  yoke. 

Only  an  education, 

That  is  what  he  wants, 
And  to  be  a  citizen 

But  they  say  he  can't. 

Only  abiding  by  the  law 

Of  our  God  and  man, 
And  on  all  public  questions 

For  the  right,  he  tries  to  stand. 

Only  to  suit  the  appetites 

Of  other  wicked  men, 
Our  race  is  mobb'd  and  lynch'd 

Isn't  that  a  sin? 


MOTHER'S  SONGS.  21 

Only  proud  America 

Detests  human  strife, 
Still  has  not  courage  to 

Protect  human  life. 

Only  that  coming  day, 

'Pointed  hour  make  haste, 

She  must  stand  'fore  her  God, 
Past  that  solemn  test. 


Mother's  Songs. 

The  summer's  sun  was  beaming  hot, 
The  boys  had  played  all  day ; 

And  now  beside  a  rippling  stream, 
Upon  the  grass  they  lay. 

Tired  of  games  and  idle  jest, 

As  swept  the  hours  along, 
They  called  on  one  who  mused  at  times, 

"Come  pard,  give  us  a  song." 

"I  fear  I  cannot  please,"  he  said, 

"The  only  songs  I  know 
Are  those  my  mother  used  to  sing 

To  me  long  years  ago." 


22  MOTHER'S  SONGS. 

"Sing  oneof  those,"  arough  voice  said, 
"There's  none  but  true  men  here; 

Toev'ry  mother's  son  of  us 
A  mother's  song  is  dear." 

Then  sweetly  rose  the  singer's  voice, 

Amid  unwonted  calm: 
"Am  I  a  soldier  of  the  cross 

A  follower  of  the  lamb." 

"And  shall  I  fear  to  own  his  cause" 

Every  heart  seemed  stilled, 
And  hearts  that  never  throbbed  with  fear, 

With  tender  thoughts  were  tilled. 

As  the  singer  closed  he  said, 
"  Boys,  we  must  face  the  foes" 

Then  thanking  them  for  their  invite 
Upon  his  feet  he  rose. 

"  Sing  us  one  more  the  young  men  said, 

The  singer  hung  his  head, 
Then  glancing  'round  with  smiling  lips, 

"You'll  join  with  me,"  he  said. 

We'll  sing  that  old  familiar  air, 

Sweet  as  the  bugle  call ; 
"All  hail  the  power  of  Jesus  name, 

Let  Angels  prostrate  fall." 


MOTHERS  SONGS.   .  28 

And  wondrous  was  the  old  tune's  spell, 

As  on  the  singer  sang ; 
Man  after  man  fell  into  line, 
And  loud  their  voices  rang. 

One  cried  out  "my  mother  sings 

'Just  as  I  am  though  tossed  about;' 

And  the  crowd  picked  up  the  anthem — 
"With  many  a  conflict,  many  a  doubt." 

The  next  said  "I  seem  to  hear, 
'It's  rock  of  ages  cleft  for  me,' 

And  the  boys  joined  in  with  feeling 
"Let  me  hide  myself  in  thee." 

Another  said  "I'm  an  outcast, 
But  when  I've  nowhere  to  roam, 

I  think  of  mother  and  the  city 
Which,  long  since  she's  made  her  home." 

The  next  one  said  with  tearful  eyes 

"My  mother's  in  eternity, 
Her  song  was  'O  rock  of  ages 

In  thy  cleft  hidethou  me.' 

Hush'd  are  her  lips,  the  song's  ended, 

The  singer  sleeps  at  last ; 
While  I  sit  here  in  deep  wonder, 

Arid  think  of  days,  long  past. 


24  MOTHER'S  SONGS. 

The  room  still  echoes  with  music, 

As  singing  soft  and  low, 
Those  grand  sweet  Christian  carols, 

They  rock  her  too  and  fro. 

Safe  hidden  in  the  "Rock  of  Ages" 

She  bade  farewell  to  fear ; 
Sure  that  her  Lord'd  always  lead  her 

"  She  read  her  title  clear." 

Dear  Saint  in  mansions  long  folded, 
Safe  in  God's  fostering  love, 

She  joins  in  the  blissful  chorus, 
Of  those  bright  choirs  above. 

There  she  knows  not  pain,  nor  sorrow, 

Safe  beyond  Jordan's  roll 
She  lives  with  her  blessed  Jesus 

The  lover  of  her  soul. 

These  boys  are  men,  the  stream  still  runs, 

Those  songs,  they  still  are  heard ; 
And  oh!  the  depth  of  every  soul, 
By  those  old  hymns  is  stirred. 

And  up  from  many  a  bearded  lip, 

In  whispers  soft  and  low ; 
Rises  the  songs  the  mother  taught 

The  boy  long  years  ago. 


SPOTLESS.  25 


Spotless. 

(James  1:21) 

Spotless,  spotless,  spotless,  spotless, 
At  the  sounding  of  that  word, 

All  my  soul  turned  up  to  heaven, 
All  my  heart  within  me  stirred. 

Would  that  I  could  stand  out  spotless, 
Lord,  I  know  that  Thou  hast  died, 

Thou  hast  stood  for  ages  spotless 
Bidding  men  come  and  abide. 

Lord,  build  up  for  me  a  ladder, 

Reaching  into  perfect  day, 
That  my  hopes  this  word  may  grapple, 

Showing  me  the  right  of  way. 

Blooming  flowers  all  seem  spotless, 
On  the  spotless  hill  and  dell, 

Oh,  how  beautiful  they  all  are, 
And  how  fragrant  too  they  smell. 

The  spotless  birds,  they  spring  along, 
And  chirp  the  song  of  jubilee; 

I  like  to  hear  their  spotless  songs, 
They  make  my  melancholy  flee. 


20  SPOTLESS. 

I  wish  that  I  could  so  be  found, 
While  traveling  life's  brief  way, 

A  spotless  light  to  every  one, 
Where'er  my  footsteps  stray. 

Once  a  woman  tried  to  show  me 

Something  spotless,  bright  and  new, 

And  she  pick'd  for  illustration 
Objects  of  the  dirtiest  hue. 

"Lady"  said  I,  eager,  anxious, 

"Why  do  you  choose  things  so    vile?" 

"Just  to  show  the  cleansing  process," 
Said  the  lady  with  a  smile. 

Then  she  said  "  these  dirty  colors, 

Hardest  to  remove  of  all, 
Can  be  made  by  constant  rubbing 

White  as  snowflake  in  its  fall." 

These  words  struck  my  heart  with  power, 
Made  my  soul  within  me  throb, 

"Dirty  colors" — "white  as  snowflake" 
Can  this  woman?     Cannot  God? 

Lord,  I  long  to  be  made  spotless, 
What  lack  I  to  make  me  thine  ? 

Not  in  name  but  spotless  truly, 
Would  I  have  thy  ways,  not  mine. 


SPOTLESS.  27 

Is  there  anything  not  spotless 
That  I  cherish  more  than  Thee, 

Loved  ones,  money,  fame  or  talent? 
Lord  reveal  them  now  to  me. 

Lord  I  think  how  Thou,  though  spotless, 
Left  thy  Heavenly  home  on  high, 

Gave  up  all  Thy  spotless  glory, 
Came  to  earth  for  us,  to  die. 

Jesus  spoke  from  out  His  mansion : 
"Thou,  as  I,  can  spotless  be, 

Vilest  hearts  have  been  made  precious, 
Simply  trust  and  follow  me." 

Then  I  cried,  "O  Jesus  take  me, 
Give  me  spotless,  crimson  wings, 

Stamp  my  name  upon  thy  roll  book, 
Take  it  to  the  spotless  King." 

*         *         #         * 

Oh,  what  spotless,  rapturous  music ! 

Heaven's  gates  seemed  open  wide, 
And  I  stood  there  clear  and  spotless, 

Near  the  Saviour's  spotless  side. 

Spotless  in  God's  spotless  mansions! 

Spotless  in  His  spotless  light ! 

God's  own  love,  majestic,  spotless, 
Made  me  crimson,  spotless  white! 


28  MOTHERLY  EMOTIONS. 


Motherly  Emotions. 

A  mother*  came  passing  by  my  door, 
Her  son  was  near  by  my  side ; 

"Howdy  mama"  was  her  son's  adore, 
"Howdy  my  son"  she  replied. 

And  as  I  gazed  upon  that  mother, 
The  tears  rushed  to  my  eyes ; 

My  heart's  affections  began  to  swell, 
My  mind  went  to  paradise. 

While  there  it  found  that  one  model, 
Who,  sixteen  long  years  ago, 

By  the  blessed  Saviour's  command, 
Left  all  earth's  sorrows  below. 

"  What  word  is  sweeter  than  mother, 
What  place  is  dearer  than  home?" 

These  words  are  our  associates 
Wherever  in  life  we  roam. 

Napoleon  was  a  worldly  man, 
Yet  one  great  thing  he  uttered, 

When  from  conscience  clear  he  said, 
"  What  France  most  needs  is  mothers." 


MOTHERLY  EMOTIONS.  29 

Home,  that  sanctuary  of  love, 
That  stamps  impressions  for  life, 

Who's  the  heart  of  affection  there? 
It  is  the  mother,  the  wife. 

A  mother's  love!  oh,  no  one  knows 
How  much  of  life's  feelings  lies, 

In  those  sweet  words,  the  fears,  the  hopes, 
And  daily  strengthening  ties. 

It  wakes  ere  yet  the  infant  dreams 

It's  earliest  vital  breath  ; 
And  fails  but  when  the  mother's  heart 

Chills  in  the  grasp  of  death. 

Who  knows  the  worth  of  mother? 

Not  those  who  see  her  daily; 
But  those  who  watch  that  vacant  chair 

Whose  days  are  dark  and  dreary. 

But  when  I  am  tossed  and  driven, 

And  feel  like  I'm  all  alone; 
I  think  of  mother  and  that  city, 

Which  long  since  she's  made  her  home. 

Mother,  while  playing  at  thy  knees, 

Within  my  youthful  heart; 
There  dwelt  no  secret  consciousness, 

That  thou  would  e'er  depart. 


30  MOTHERLY  EMOTIONS. 

Since  thou  hast  gone  I  now  have  learned 

To  bow  my  stubborn  will, 
The  power  that  calms  the  raging  sea 

My  rebel  heart  has  stilled. 

So  I  can  look  with  fearless  eyes 

On  all  these  earthly  fates, 
But  how  coulds't  thou  afford  to  die 

And  leave  me  desolate  ? 

I  should  not  weep  for  thee,  dear  one, 
While  with  the  saints  thou  art, 

But  how  can  I  in  coldness  check 
The  burning  tears  that  start? 

My  thoughts  to  thee  must  ever  turn 

As  in  my  infant  days, 
While  in  my  heart  thine  image  shall 

Lead  me  through  life's  rough  ways. 

Rest,  dearest  one,  may  angel  host 
Their  vigils  o'er  thee  keep, 

How  can  I  breath  thy  saintly  name 
And  yet  forbear  to  weep? 

I  stand  heartbroken  on  dull  earth 
And  gaze  on  the  vacant  skies, 

Mother  I  cannot  see  thy  face, 
Dost  thou  hear  thy  son's  cry? 


CONSOLATION.  31 

If  in  God's  likeness  1  may  awake 
And  shine  in  pure  image  by  thee, 

I'll  be  satisfied  when  I  can  break 
The  fetters  of  flesh  and  be  free. 

*Mrs.  L.  E.  S. 


Consolation. 

Friends  can't  you  tell  me  something? 

I  am  weary  and  worn  tonight. 
The  day  has  gone  like  a  shadow 

And  only  the  evening  is  light. 

Tell  me  about  the  Master, 

Of  the  burdensome  hills  he  trod, 

When  the  tears  and  blood  from    his   an 
guish 
Dropped  down  on  Judea's  sod. 

Tell  me  about  the  Master, 

Of  the  wrongs  he  freely  forgave, 

Of  His  love  and  His  tender  compassion, 
Of  His  love  that  is  mighty  to  save. 

For  my  heart  is  restless  and  weary 
Of  the  woes  and  temptations  of  life, 

Of  all  the  treacherous  conflicts 

Of  falsehood,  and  malice,  and  strife. 


85*  LIFE  WHAT  WE  MAKE  IT. 

So  tell  me  the  sweet  old  story 

That  falls  on  each  wound  like  a  balm, 

And  my  heart  now  bruised  and  broken, 
Shall  grow  patient,  strong,  and  calm. 


Life  What  We  Make  It. 

My  life  is  a  wearisome  journey; 

I'm  sick  with  the  times  and  the  heat, 
The  rays  of  the  sun  beat  upon  me ; 

Life's  briars  are  wounding  my  feet. 

There  are  so  many  hills  leading    upwards 
It  keeps  me  a  longing  for  rest, 

But  he  who  appoints  me  my  journey, 
Knows  just  what  is  needful  and  best. 

He  loves  me  too  well  to  forsake  me, 
Or  give  me  one  trial  too  much, 

And  the  toils  of  my  road  will  seem  noth 
ing 
When  e'er  I  receive  his  kind  touch. 

When  the  last  feeble  step  has  been  taken 
And  the  gates  of  the  city  appear, 

The  beautiful  songs  of  the  angels 
Will  float  out  on  listening  ears. 


FRANCES  E.  HARPER.  33 

Though  now  I  am  foot-sore  and  weary, 
I'll  rest  when  I'm  safely  at  home, 

I  know  I'll  receive  a  glad  welcome 
For  the  Saviour  Himself  has  said :  *  *  come. ' ' 

So  when  I  am  weary  in  body 
And  sinking  in  spirit,  I  say, 

All  the  toils  of  the  road  will  seem  noth 
ing 
When  I  get  to  the  end  of  the  way. 

Then  I'll  try    to   press   hopefully   on 
ward, 
Thinking  often  through  each  weary  day, 

The  toils  of  the  road  will  seem  nothing 
When  I  get  to  the  end  of  my  way. 


Frances  E.  Harper. 

Tribute. 

Dear  friend,  to  me  one  vision  craved, 

Alas !  has  been  denied  ; 
But  thy  strong  words  on  page  of  book 

My  mind  anew  inspires, 
Thy  noble  soul  has  lifted  mine, 

As  rippling  waves  are  drawn; 
My  spirit  heard  thy  words  sublime, 

About  the  woman's  dawn. 

3 


34  FRANCES  E.  HARPER. 

Some  mysteries  of  Afric's  race, 

Were  left  for  thee  to  prove ; 
Thy  lucid  voice,  thy  pen  of  grace, 

Filled  up  with  hope  and  love — 
Woke  the  dead  pulse  of  joy  supreme, 

In  our  discouraged  hearts, 
Dispells  the  long  delusive  dream, 

Makes  new  ambitions  start. 

The  rebels  who  pronounce  us  brutes, 

With  conscience  all  at  rest ; 
Feel  the  great  throb  of  Afric's  truth, 

That  stirs  from  out  thy  breast ; 
Maid  of  a  higher,  nobler  cause, 

Thou  queen  of  ancient  night; 
Defender  of  the  virtuous  laws 

Of  our  young  woman's  rights. 

Thy  name  has  spread  like  night's  domain, 

When  all  her  glittering  lamps 
Illume  the  vast  and  level  plains 

Into  the  peaceful  camps — 
Where  martyrs  keep  the  righteous  post 

Doubting  our  freedom  yet, 
And  speed  the  faithfuf,  onward  host, 

With  eyes  on  justice  set. 


FRANCES  E.  HARPER.'  33 

They  are  not  dead,  those  who  have   died, 

Like  holy  angels  come 
To  mortals  in  their  faithful  strides 

For  country,  love  and  home; 
Thou    knowest     the     psalms     by     sages 
wrought, 

Through  shaky,  mythic  phrase; 
Thou  nobler  psalms  than  they  have  taught, 

Yet  they  have  all  the  praise. 

The  time  will  come  when  this  great  state, 

With  conscience  clear  and  true, 
Will  feel  the  strain  of  human  fate, 

Revealed  to  them  by  you ; 
And  from  her  high  esteemed  estate, 

She  will  throw  open  wide 
The  portal  of  her  royal  gate. 

So  long  to  us  denied. 

Continue  in  thy  noble  work, 

O,  faithful  sister  great, 
Until  thy  mind  redeeming  words, 

Are  spread  in  every  state; 
Bring  womanhood  her  honors  due, 

Heal  up  these  long  disgraces ; 
The  time  has  come  when  woman  must 

March  out  and  lead  the  races. 


36  VOICE  FROM  THE  XOUTH. 

Cain  and  Abel. 

"To  thine  ownself  be  true, 

And  it  must  follow  as  the  night  the  day, 

Thou  canst  not  then  be  false  to  any  man.' 

Cain  was  not  true  to  Abel, 

Neither  true  to  himself, 
Because  Abel  was  true  to  both, 

He  put  his  brother  to  death. 

I  think  how  many  a  hundred 
Of  innocent  Negro  men. 
Each  trying  to  do  like  Abel, 

Have  died  his  death  since  then. 


Voice  From  The  South. 

To  Mrs.  Annie  Julia  Cooper. 

I  read  that  book,  "Voice  from  the  South," 

I  read  it  o'er  again  ; 
I  re-read,  heart  leaped  up  to  mouth 

At  its  triumphant  aim. 

It  'rouses  those  noble  feelings, 

Which  partly  are  obscure ; 
It  makes  us  see  as  we  are  seen, 

And  fits  us  to  endure. 


VOICE  FROM  THE  SOUTH.  37 

It  pictures  a  steadfast  purpose, 

A  brave  and  daring  will, 
A  human-needed  promise  that 

We  hope  the  years  will  fill. 

Noble  woman,  grandly  gifted, 
Sent  to  tell  the  world  true  facts; 

Sure  the  race  will  be  uplifted 

By  thy  words,  thy  deeds,  thy  acts. 

Thy  dauntless  words  are  great  and  bold, 

At  times  they  seem  to  be — 
Like  John  Brown's  in  dark  slavery's  days, 

While  battling  for  the  free. 

Earth's  grandest  hearts  uplift  to  thee, 
They  feel  thy  spreading  fame ; 

And  children  that  are  yet  to  be 
Will  "hallowed  be  thy  name." 

From  thy  book,  those  worthy  pages, 
All  our  anxious  hearts  entreat; 

All  true  trophies  of  the  ages, 
Are  enshrined  at  thy  dear  feet. 

Oh!  wished  for,  hoped  for,  happy  time, 

When  I  can  have  the  grace, 
To  grasp  thy  hand,  and  more  sublime, 

Upon  thy  statue  gaze. 


VOICE  FROM  THE  SOUTH. 

When  e'er  T  'tempt  to  write  of  thee, 
Love  takes  my  thoughts  away ; 

Thy  dazzling  fame  makes  all  that  flee, 
Which  most  I  long  to  say. 

If  thou  hadst  hearing  in  thy  heart, 

To  know  how  others  beat; 
Then  thoushouldst  walk  where'er  thou  art, 

Where  throbbing  millions  greet. 

O  ye  whose  noble,  lucid  pen, 

Forever  filled  with  ink; 
To  touch  the  hearts  and  minds  of  men, 

And  make  whole  nations  think. 

It  may  be  that  in  this  cold  world, 

You  will  be  ostracised 
For  noble  truths  which  you  have  hurled 

At  those  who  right  despise. 

But  Christ  was  ostracised  by  men, 

He  conquered  every  one ; 
Brave  Luther  faced  the  Papal  den, 

And  he  the  victory  won. 

So  while  within  this  vale  of  tears, 
Where  sins  and  woes  are  rife ; 

words  will  prove,  in  coming  years, 
The  gift  of  mortal  life.       , 


VOICE  FROM  THE  SOUTH.  39 

Since  we  are  scattered  as  a  race, 
And  thou  hast  power  to  write; 

While  God  prolongs  thy  days  of  grace, 
Cry  to  the  race  "unite." 

Thou  hast  been  writing,  noble  one, 

Thou  dost  not  write  in  vain ; 
Thy  words,  methink,  are  pressing  on, 

They  shall  be  entertained. 

Thy  writing  has  a  dwelling  place, 

Above  this  lynching  ken; 
We  hope  thy  spirit  will  never  trace 

Such  wicked  haunts  of  men. 

In  some  far  off  diviner  land, 

There  stands  a  giant  Mast ; 
It  waves  to  you  a  cheering  hand, 

From  heroes  of  the  past. 

Thy  'lectric  voice,  whose  strong  control, 

As  with  an  angel's  breath 
Can  stir  the  fountain  of  the  soul, 

And  cheer  the  long  bereft. 

Write  on,  and  may  thy  words  still    strike 
The  conscience  of  the  nation ; 

Ai  d  show  that  all  men  are  alike, 
And  have  been  since  creation. 


40  BISHOP  PAYNE. 

Bishop  Daniel  A.  Payne. 

(Deceased). 

He  has  gone  forth  in  the  light  of  light, 
Out  of  the  long  watch  and  the  heavy  night, 
Out  of  the  life  that  was  so  hard  to  bear, 
Crowded  by  sorrow  and  perplexed  by  care. 

Love  was   the  life  which    pulsed   his  being 

through, 

No  task  too  hard,  if  set  by  love  to  do, 
No  pain  too  sharp,  if  love  called  to  endure, 
No  weariness  he  knew  if  love  was  true. 

Heaven  has  received  him  as  a  welcome  guest, 
Balming  earth's  tie  with  compensating  rest, 
Healing  earth's  grievous  wound  with  sure 

content, 
The  sense  of  home  after  long  banishment. 

But  more  to  him  than  smile  of  vanished  kin, 
Or  hands  outstreched  to  greet  and  draw  him 

in, 

Or  "bonded  walls"  of  amethyst  unpriced 
Is  the  clear  vision  of  the  face  of  Christ. 

The  face  divine,  which,  in  his  boyhood  days, 
Seeing  he  loved  and  never  looked  away, 
Which,  like  a  star  in  the  dim  firmament, 
Guided  his  steps  and  moved  where'  er  he  went . 


DOUGLASS  DEAD*  41 

Out  of  the  life  that  was  not  always  sweet, 
Out  of  the  puzzle  and  the  day's  defeat, 
Out  of  earth's  hindering  and  alien  zone, 
The  Lord  of  love  has  led  him  to  his  own. 


Douglass  Dead? 

Across  the  nation's  broad  domain, 
On  every  hill,  and  every  plain, 
Peals  out  the  muffled,  sad  refrain, 
That  Douglass  is  dead. 

O  no,  not  dead  !  for  every  heart 
In  every  state  must  surely  start 
As  freedom's  great,  uprisi  ig  mart, 
If  Douglass  is  deud ! 

And  far  across  the  deep  blue  sea, 
Those  nations  that  love  liberty, 
Their  minds  will  be  a  mournful  lea, 
For  Douglass'  death. 

Once  freedom's  great,  uprising  host, 
From  Maine  to  California's  coast, 
Of  this  great  man  could  truly  boast, 
And  now  he's  dead! 


42  THE  BAXTER  MAN. 

In  every  heart  of  all  the  race, 

He'll  ever  have  a  sacred  place, 

His  name  can  never  be  erased, 

He  is  not  dead ! 

He's  with  Lincoln,  John  Brown,  Grant, 
With  Bishop  Payne  and  Price  he  chants, 
With  such  surrounding  host  we  can't 
Say  he  is  dead ! 


The  Easter  Man. 

So  crushed  by  sinful  oppression. 
Through  the  ages  long  and  drear, 

Men  began  to  doubt  and  question, 
Whether  Shiloh  would  appear. 

The  Jewish  doctors  pondered, 
And  Gentile  sages  dreamed, 

While  on  their  weary  vision 
No  assuring  light  yet  gleamed. 

But  while  time's  dial  was  still  moving:, 

~  7 

God,  in  a  mysterious  way, 
Let  man  go  in  his  wonder, 

He  knew  thedimenand  the  day. 


THE  EASTER  MAN.  & 

And  the  Watchman  he  stood  mourning, 
Over  Judah's  seer  that  day ; 

As  up  on  Bethlehem's  hillside, 
They  wound  their  weary  way. 

And  the  watchman  cried  "O  Israel, 

How  long  are  we  to  stand, 
Under  the  great  oppressor's  yoke, 

To  be  moved  by  Shiloh's  hand?" 

When  heaven  and  earth  were  silent, 
When  the  Lord's  will  would  be  done, 

The  cry  went  from  out  Bethlehem, 
"A  man  child  there  is  born." 

Then  burst  the  rapturous  anthem ; 

"  Glory  to  God  be  given, 
Good  will  among  the  sons  of  Men 

Peace  on  earth  and  in  heaven." 

While  there  in  his  manger  cradle, 
The  unconscious  monarch  lay, 

The  babe  of  Bethlehem  now  born, 
To  have  universal  sway. 

The  human  sea  became  restless, 

Earth's  kingdoms  began  to  shake, 
And  the  universal  cry  was 
>   •  ,'*^«*er,inuw  like  that  inan  spake." 


44  THE  EASTER  MAN. 

When  He  began  his  active  work, 
For  three  long  toilsome  years, 

He  climbed  degradation's  mountain, 
Wading  through  heart-aches  and  tears . 

But  Jesus  buried  these  sorrows, 
Knowing  the  world  had  its  share; 

He  opened  a  crystal  fountain, 
To  wash  away  sinful  snares. 

The  more  he  spread  his  mission, 
The  more  he  became  despised, 

He  forgave  men  this  wickedness, 
And  yet  he  was  crucified. 

Nineteen  centuries  have  passed  and  gone, 
Since  "  it  is  finished"  was  cried, 

Every  day  during  that  time, 
The  Savior's  been  crucified. 

If  we  ask  ourselves  the  question, 
"  Why  crucify  one  so  dear?" 

Our  hearts  will  respond  full  sadly, 
44  The  answer  is  not  here." 

The  still,  small  voice  from  Calvary 
Cries  "  I  did  all  this  for  thee," 

And  from  the  ear  of  faith  we  hear, 
44  What  art  thou  doing:  for  me-" 


THE  EAjTtiH  MAN.  45 

Silence  reigned  in  Jerusalem, 
Men  became  bothered  in  mind, 

Questions  were  asked  about  Jesus, 
To  answer  wise  men  declined. 

On  that  lovely  Easter  morning, 
Mary  and  others  came  near, 

The  angel  solved  the  mystery, 
"  He's  risen,  He  is  not  here." 

He  spent  forty  days  sojourning, 
To  many  he  made  himself  known, 

He  told  of  a  city  called  Heaven, 

Entreated  them  to  make  it  their  home. 

He  melted  down  satan's  mansions, 
He  made  intercession  for  man, 

He  gave  his  peace  to  the  nations, 
And  gave  the  disciples  command. 

And  then  along  the  silent  path, 

By  viewless  spirits  trod, 
He  left  the  blights  of  this  sad  earth, 

And  went  to  dwell  with  God. 

Gates  of  Heaven  all  stood  ajar, 
Bells  of  Heaven  were  ringing, 

Angels  stood  around  the  gate, 
Waiting,  watching,  singing. 


46  THE  EASTER  MAN. 

And  as  the  Savior  entered  in, 
They  did  not  close  the  view, 

But  left  the  gate  standing  ajar 
That  we  might  enter  too. 

Heaven's  orchestra  uttered  aloud, 
"Worthy  the  Lamb  that  was  slain 

To  receive  honor,  glory,  power, 
Blessings,  world  without  end." 

For  every  thorn  that  gave  a  wound, 
A  rose  in  Heaven  was  given, 

And  joy.  that  there  no  roses  found 
With  rosy  wreaths  were  riven. 

In  paradise  where  breezes  blow, 
To  cool  the  heart's  hot  fever, 

The  pangs  and  pain  He  felt  below, 
Were  waft  away  forever. 


To  look  at  Thee,  O  Lord,  as  Thou  art, 
From  this  mortal  perishing  clay, 

The  spirit  immortal  in  peace  would  de 
part, 
And  joyous  mount  up  her  bright  way. 


MAN'S  IMPERFECTION 8.  47 

I  know  our  stained  tablets  must  first  be 

washed  white, 

To  let  Thy  bright  features  be  drawn. 
We  know  we  must  suffer  the  darkness  of 

night, 
To  welcome  the  coming  of  dawn. 

But  we  shall   be  satisfied   when  we  can 
cast 

The  shadow  of  nature  all  by, 
When  the  cold,  heavy  world   from  our 
vision  has  passed 

To  let  the  soul  open  her  eye. 
We  come  together  in  Easter    service, 

To  sing  praises  unto  His  name. 
Let  every  day  be  Easter  in  which 

Wre  will  sing  His  praises  the  same. 


Man's  Imperfections. 

O  life  why  so  imperfect? 

And  life  cried  in  elation, 
Don't  fault  my  God  nor  me  correct, 

Hut  man  and  his  ovation. 


48  MY  SWEETHEART. 

The  little  bird  enjoys  his  life, 
The  ant  improves  his  time; 

Its  only  man's  abusive  strife, 
That  wrecks  this  holy  clime. 

The  rippling  stream  goes  swiftly  by, 
The  plants  grow  undistubed; 

And  only  man  fills  life  with  sighs, 
And  makes  crime  reign  superb. 

The  sun  and  moon  and  stars  are  bright. 

This  earth's  a  paradise; 
But  man  stands  in  his  own  sunlight, 

As  imperfection's  vice. 


My  Sweetheart. 

I  went  to  bed  the  other  night, 
My  sleep  was  sweet  in  part ; 

I  dreamed  I  saw  a  lovely  sight, 
It  was  my  dear  sweetheart. 

She  sat  in  the  window  watching, 
As  I  wjnt  down  the  street; 

I  threw  a  kiss  back  to  her, 

Her  face  seem' d  blossom  sweet. 


MY  SWEETHEART.  49 

My  sweetheart's  image  was  with  me, 

Whichever  way  I  went, 
It  banished  all  temptations, 

And  gave  me  good  intent. 

When  the  world  seems  full  of  trouble, 

When  things  seem  to  go  wrong: 

My  sweetheart's  image  is  with  me, 

And  makes  me  brave  and  strong. 

I  return 'd  by  early  twilight, 
And  as  I  latched  the  gate ; 

I  saw  from  the  shaded  window, 
My  sweetheart  still  did  wait. 

I  hastened  toward  the  window, 
I  saw  my  sweetheart's  eyes 

Sparkle  with  a  smiling  welcome, 
As  the  stars  up  in  the  skies. 

"Finback  again,  dear  sweetheart," 
I  said,  and  stoop'd  to  kiss 

My  sweetheart'  s  face  that  was  lifted, 
It  seem'd  that  all  was  bliss. 

You  all  have  sweethearts  like  this  one. 

Babies,  sisters  and  brothers ; 
This  sweetheart  gives  us  lots  of  fun, 

My  sweetheart  was  my  mother. 


50  LINCOLN'S  CALL 

What  do  you  think  of  my  sweetheart? 

I  shall  not  go  any  further ; 
Can  you  blame  a  boy  my  size  because 

He's  dead  in  love  with  mother? 


The  angel  who  unfetter'd  St.  Peter, 
When  bound  in  Jerusalem's  jail ; 

Is  no  greater  than  the  angel  Lincoln 
Who  heeded  the  Negro's  wail. 


LINCOLN'S  CALL.  51 


And  never  in  all  ages, 

Since  John  on  Patnius  wrote; 
Have  words  been  put  on  pages 

As  great  as  Lincoln  spoke. 


Lincoln's  Call. 

You  know  'twas  eighteen  sixty-one, 
The  civil  war  had  just  begun, 
The  ship  of  state  was  at  the  place, 
To  picture  up  the  South's  disgrace; 
And  Lincoln  quickly  saw  the  point, 
Where  he  could  knock  things  out  of  joint ; 
And  all  the  sight  which  he  had  seen, 
Before  his  mind  began  to  gleam. 
He  thought  of  countless  human  slaves, 
Murdered,  buried  without  a  grave; 
He  thought  of  the  wicked  overseer, 
Whose  cruelty  could  have  no  peer; 
He  thought  of  the  master's  snarling  cry— 
"That  Negro's  worthless,  let  him  die." 
Rethought  of  the  Southern  auction  block, 
Where  human  beings  sold  as  stock; 
He  thought  of  mother's  wailing  cry, 
When  wicked  men  her  child  would  buy ; 
He  thought  how  cruel  they  could  be, 


52  LINCOLN'S  CALL. 

To  counteract  the  mother's  plea; 

He  thought  how  men  were  sold  like  mules, 

And  left  their  wives  with  wicked  fools; 

He  thought  of  Christian  mother's  weep, 

To  see  her  child  drove  off  like  sheep ; 

He  thought  of  mother's  vain  distress, 

To  have  a  babe  sold  from  her  breast ; 

And  worst  of  all  since  God's  creation, 

He  thought  of  that  abomination — 

Amalgamation  of  the  races, 

On  terms  that  give  us  blushing  faces ; 

He  thought  of  masters  who  had  slaves, 

Whose  virtue  they  would  often  crave ; 

And  she,  no  matter  how  she  feel, 

To  master's  wicked  lust  must  yield; 

These  sights  as  dark  as  dark  midnight, 

Made  angels  shudder  in  their  flight; 

The  goddess  of  the  angry  deep, 

These  horrors  made  her  conscience  weep; 

The  gladiator  drop'd  his  sword, 

At  sight  of  Southern  festive  boards. 

Diana  said  with  heart  aglow, 

Such  sights  have  never  reign'd  before; 

These  things  weighed  Lincoln'sheart  with 

grief, 
And  when  the  nation  made  him  chief — 


LINCOLN'*  CALL.  53 

He  gave  a  long,  tremendous  call, 
From  out  the  nation's  senate  hall, 
And  all  the  North  heard  his  appeal, 
And  marched  out  on  ihe  battle  field; 
The  Pilgrim  Fathers,  dead  and  gone, 
Pushed  brave  New  England  in  the  throng, 
Good  William  Perm  said  from  his  grave: 
"  My  Quakers  join  the  Lincoln  wave." 
The  father  of  the  country  said — 
'*  March  en,  it  is  the  rightful  tread !" 
The  heroes  of  Thermopylae 
Heard  Lincoln's  call  for  liberty, 
And  cried  from  out  their  distant  graves, 
"If  you  must  die,  men's  freedom  save." 
Crispus  Attucks,  whose  blood  ran  down, 
When  Washington  was  in  renown, 
His  blood  cried  out  "if  you'd  be  free, 
All  strike  at  once  for  liberty  !" 
Sojourner  Truth,  her  voice  was  heard, 
*'  March  on  !"  was  the  commanding  word, 
Nat  Turner  screamed  out  from  the  sod; 
**  I  would  thou  precious,  alhvise  God, 
Had  spared  my  life  upon  the  land 
To  follow  Lincoln's  brave  command, 
Then  I  could  quickly  do  my  part, 
For  poor  down-trodden,  human  hearts, 


54  LINCOLN'S  CALL. 

I'd  help  to  strike  that  mighty  blow, 

To  let  my  bondaged  people  go ! " 

John  Brown's  bleeding  body  cried: 

"This  is  the  cause  for  which  I  died!" 

Frederick  Douglass,  grand  old  man, 

Who  aided  John  Brown  in  his  plans, 

Who  stood  with  Lincoln  and  conversed, 

Was  ready  now  to  stand  the  worst. 

He  used  his  voice,  his  pen,  his  mind, 

And  men  who  heard  him  fell  in  line. 

These  voices  echoed  Lincoln's  sound. 

And  stirred  the  people  all  around ; 

From  Maine  to  California's  coast, 

Rose  freedom's  great  advancing  host. 

Men  speaking  in  the  senate  hall, 

Responded  to  the  noble  call ; 

The  Gov'nors  left  the  state  affairs, 

The  writer  left  his  easy  chair, 

The  lawyer  quit  the  city  bar, 

And  left  his  office  door  ajar; 

The  bus' ness  man  went  out  his  store, 

Perhaps  to  enter  there  no  more ; 

The  teacher  left  his  tutorship, 

And  gave  his  gun  a  lasting  grip. 

The  student  left  his  study  desk, 

And  marched  with  teacher  breast  abreast, 


LINCOLN'S  CALL.  55 

The  hunter  left  the  stag  at  bay, 
For  Lincoln's  call  he  must  obey; 
"The  plow  was  in  the  furrow  staid, 
The  herds  without  a  keeper  stray'd," 
The  fish' man  left  his  pole  and  line, 
The  blacksmith  drop'd  his  red  hot  iron, 
The  artist  let  go  paint  and  brush, 
And  to  the  army  made  a  rush. 
Husbands  kissed  their  wives  good-bye, 
Left  the  children,  went  to  die; 
Mothers  told  sons  to  heroes  be, 
In  the  cause  of  liberty; 
The  young  man  in  the  prime  of  life, 
Left  his  newly  wedded  wife; 
The  lover  left  his  loved  one's  side 
Whom  he  had  vowed  to  make  his  bride, 
He  loved  his  girl  with  all  his  heart, 
But  country's  love  was  now  his  part; 
Each  son  and  father  rushed  to  arms, 
At  Lincoln's  signals  of  alarm. 
The  war  began,  brave  Lincoln  stood, 
As  pilot  in  the  human  flood ; 
Again  he  made  a  long  appeal, 
More  men  were  needed  in  the  field. 
His  voice  was  heard  all  o'er  the  land, 
A  million  men  obeyed  command. 


56  LINCOLN'S  CALL. 

At  Gettysburg,  brave  Lincoln  stood, 

And  he  was  in  a  better  mood ; 

He  saw  the  cause  for  which  he  fought, 

Was  plain  before  the  people  brought; 

And  on  that  bloody  battlefield, 

The  enemies  began  to  yield ; 

And  Lincoln,  with  his  God  push'd  pen, 

Wrote  these  words  on  the  hearts  of  men  : 

"All  human  beings  claimed  as  slaves — 

Are  placed  upon  great  freedom's  wave." 

And  angels  echoed  around  the  throne ; 

"Rejoice  thy  freedom  is  thy  own  !" 

The  Negro  left  his  master's  farm, 

For  he  had  heard  the  last  alarm, 

But  half  in  doubt  and  half  in  stress, 

He  wondered  which  would  be  the  best — 

"  If  massa  ketch  me  gwine  away, 

He'll  Mil  dis  nigger  shur  as  day ; 

But  whats  de  use  to  stay  back  herr, 

He's  killing  niggers  ebry  yerr, 

Boss  Lincoln  says  dat  I  am  free, 

Pll  strike  a  blow  for  liberty!" 

He  marched  out  like  a  soldier  man, 

And  joined  the  host  of  freedom's  van. 

The  war  moved  on  for  two  more  years, 

And  brave  men  fought  without  a  fear, 


LINCOLN'S  CALL.  57 

Till  Sherman's  host  had  reached  the  sea, 
And  Grant  had  captured  noble  Lee, 
Then  men  laid  down  their  arms  of  yore, 
And  peace  did  reign  from  shore  to  shore, 
Now  Lincoln's  work  was  bravely  done, 
The  confidence  of  Men  he'd  won, 
His  enemies  he'd  conquered  well, 
And  they  before  him  prostrate  fell. 
He'd  kept  the  faith,  he'd  fought  his  fight, 
And  in  the  stillness  of  the  night — 
When  he  least  look'd  for  any  strife, 
A  demon  struck  him  for  his  life. 
He  fell  a  corpse  to  mortal  man, 
In  this  down  trodden,  sinful  land; 
His  soul  had  heard  the  angel's  cry; 
"Thy   work's  complete,  thy    home's   on 

high," 

So  when  the  general  roll  is  called, 
Including,  Wickliffe.  Luther,  Paul ; 
Men  who  have  died  to  set  men  free, 
Lincoln's  name  on  the  list  will  be. 
And  men  who  dwell  upon  the  earth, 
Will  yet  concede  to  Lincoln's  worth, 
And  burn  his  birthday  in  the  minds, 
Of  children  'till  the  end  of  time. 
As  long  as  there  remains  a  trace 


HURRAH  FORMcKINLEYI 

Of  Afric  blood  in  mortal  face, 
So  long  will  Lincoln  honored  be, 
His  virtues  suns:  from  sea  to  sea. 


Hurrah  for  McKinley! 

Hurrah  for  McKinley ! 

Hurrah  for  Hobart ! 
And  the  St.  Louis  convention 

That  didn't  mind  revolts, 
We  have  rallied  round  the  flag  boys, 

Rallied  once  again, 
Hear  the  cry  of  freedom  and  McKinley . 

Hurrah  for  New  England ! 

Hurrah  for  Illinois ! 
New  York,  Pennsylvania, 

And  all  the  other  boys 
Who  have  rallied,  etc. 

Hurrah  for  sound  nionej  ! 

Hurrah  for  protection — 
That  sends  free  silver 

Where  there'll  be  no  resurrection, 
We  will  rally,  etc. 


11  URRsi  tt  FOR  McKlNL  #  r  /  59 


Hurrah  for  the  nation  ! 

How  it  rings  from  sea  to  sea, 
That  McKinley  is  elected 

Which  insures  prosperity. 
We  have  rallied,  etc. 

Hurrah  !  how  McKinley 

Broke  the  Mason-Dixon  line, 

Boys,  the  solid  South  is  broken, 
And  shall  be  till  end  of  time. 

We  have  rallied,  etc. 

Hurrah  for  McKinley  I 

Who's  in  Abe  Lincoln's  track, 
Who  believed  that  a  gentleman, 

Can  be  either  white  or  black. 
Let  us  rally,  etc. 

Hurrah  for  McKinley  ! 

Who  called  upon  his  state, 
To  help,  keep  a  Negro 

From  the  dreadful  lynching  fate. 
Negroes  rally,  etc. 

Hurrah  for  McKinley  ! 

Who  said  he'd  have  no  wine, 
And  those  at  the  inaugural 

To  drink  had  to  decline, 
Temperance  rally,  etc. 


60  THE  CALL  ALL  MUST  QBE  Y. 

The  Call  All  Must  Obey. 

A  voice  whispered  to  an  infant, 
Sitting  on  its  mother's  knees, 
"Leave  that  place  for  a  moment, 
I  want  you  to  go  with  me," 
"  How  can  I  leave  my  mamma's  lap, 
And  do  without  her  sweet  smiles, 
How  can  1  live  without  her  aid  ?' ' 
Replied  the  innocent  child. 

The  same  voice  whispered  to  a  child, 
Who  knew  not  the  right  from  wrong, 
"  Comechild,  leave  your  play  forawhile, 
And  join  this  mighty  throng," 
The  child  replied  in  earnest  tones, 
"  I  cannot  go  with  you  now — 
You  see  what  I  have  here  to  do, 
My  play  house  is  all  torn  down." 

"  Come,"  said  the  stern  voice  to  a  youth, 

While  plodding  along  his  way, 

And  many  youths  were  with  him  there, 

All  cheerful  and  full  of  play . 

"  How  can  I  come,"  replied  the  youth, 

"  I'm  hastening  on  to  school, 

A.nd  if  I'm  late,"  my  mother  says, 

"Its  against  the  teacher's  rule." 


THE  CALL  ALL  MUST  OBE  Y.  61 

"Come,"  the  voice  said  to  a  maid, 
Just  in  her  twentieth  year, 
While  men  were  passing  too  and  fro, 
Some  in  hope  and  some  in  fear; 
"How  can  I  come,"  replied  the   maid, 
"While  all  of  life's  temptations 
Surround  my  head,  and  I  must  be 
A  factor  to  the  nation." 

The  voice  approached  a  bright  young  man 

Just  entering  the  prime  of  life, 

" Come, "said  the  voice,  theyoungman 

stopped, 

As  if  in  a  human  strife. 
"  How  can  I  come?     My  days  are  brief, 
The  responsibility 
That  rests  upon  my  shoulders, 
Is  spread  from  sea  to  sea." 

The  voice  then  sought  a  poet's  abode, 

Who  was  seeking  after  a  rhyme, 

And  the  poet  had  an  answer 

Both  elusive  and  sublime. 

"  How  can  you  ask  for  me  to  come, 

Leave  me  to  myself  I  pray, 

For  the  verse  which  I  am  writing 

The  hearts  of  men  will  sway." 


62  THE  CALL  ALL  MUST  QBE  Y. 

"Come,"  said  the  voice    to  a  songster 
As  she  raised  her  alto  voice, 
And  the  music  sent  forth  by  her, 
Made  the  hearts  of  men  rejoice. 
"How  can  I  come,"  said  the  songster, 
"This  world  is  sinking  in  sin, 
And  I  am  to  sing  God's  mercies 
Into  the  hearts  of  men." 


"Come,"  said  the  voice  to  a  statesman, 

While  speaking  in  the  senate  hall, 

And  his  voice  aroused  the  senate 

Like  troops  at  a  bugle  call. 

"How  can  I  come,"  said  the  statesman, 

While  our  dear  ship  of  state, 

Is  hanging,  trembling,  weakening, 

At  the  sight  of  future  fate?" 

"Come,"  said  the  voice  to  a  mother, 

WTith  her  children  at  her  side, 

And  she  made  the  home  a  haven, 

For  her  husband  to  abide. 

"Oh,  I  can't  come,"  the  mother  said, 

"  [  pray  you  let  me  stay, 

For  how  can  I  leave  my  darlings 

To  wander  from  me  astray?" 


THE  CALL  ALL  Mt'bT  LLEY.  63 

The  voice  sent  out  no  more  appeals, 

The  baby  left  its  mother, 

The  child  with  a  torn  down  play  house 

Didn't  stop  to  build  another; 

Theyouth,  returning  home  from  school, 

Responded  to  the  call, 

And  the  maiden  with  her  beauty 

Had  to  enter  in  the  thrall. 

And  the  young  man  meditated, 
For  he  was  just  in  his  prime, 
But  he  joined  the  great  procession 
When  the  voice  called,  it  was  time; 
And  the  poet,  with  his  meekness, 
Had  to  (juit  his  composition ; 
For  the  voice  had  called  him  hither, 
It  was  due  a  recognition. 

The  songster's  voice  was  heard  no  more, 
The  world  still  had  its  sins, 
The  statesman  left  the  senate  floor, 
And  was  heard  no  more  by  men ; 
And  the  mother  left  her  children, 
And  they  cried  with  sobbing  breath. 
But  the  voice  which  spoke — men    must 

obey, 
It  was  the  voice  of  death. 


64  HARRIET  BEECHER  STOWE. 

Harriet  Beecher  Stowe's  Works. 

"Uncle  Tom's  Cabin." 

That  grand  and  noble  woman  dear, 

Called  Harriet  Beecher  Stowe, 
The  book  she  wrote  without  a  fear 

Drove  slavery  from  our  shore. 
To  know  her  works,  to  feel  her  worth, 

Go  read  that  noble  book 
And  see  what  dauntless  words  she  wrote, 

What  fearful  risks?  she  took. 

It  struck  a  blow  to  slavery's  tree, 

That  burned  its  very  life; 
It  scorched  the  undergrowth  around, 

And  left  it  in  a  strife ; 
It  parched  the  branches  to  a  crisp, 

Withered  the  leaves  in  twain, 
It  drove  the  sap  into  the  ground 

To  never  rise  again. 

Dark  slavery  rested  on  the  base, 

That  Africans  were  brutes, 
That  they  should  be  a  white  man's  slave 

Or  dwell  in  destitute ; 
It  said  his  sensibility 

Was  not  of  human  kind, 
And  if  he  loved,  ''twas  not  the  love 

Which  with  the  heart  combines. 


HARRIET  BE  EC  HER  STOWE.  65 

And  hence  the  children  could  be  sold, 

Husband  and  wife  untied, 
And  with  a  mind  all  full  of  glee, 

In  distant  parts  abide ; 
No  matter  what  the  master  did 

To  slaves  wrho  were  akin, 
'Twas  just  the  same  as  with  a  mule, 

The  master  didn't  sin. 

These  doctrines  were  supported  by 

Religion,  law  and  science, 
The  preacher  who  preached  otherwise, 

Was  held  up  in  defiance; 
The  surgeon  taught  that  Negro  flesh 

Under  the  whip  and  knife, 
Was  not  affected  like  white  men, 

Hence  'twas  not  human  strife. 

Politicians  said  that  it  was 

Fixed  as  the  lasting  hills, 
And  God  considered  it  as  pure 

As  nature's  rippling  rills ; 
The  statesman,  judge  and  governor 

Said  that  it  was  a  rule, 
The  Negro  slave  should  have  the  same 

As  oxen,  horse  and  mule. 


66  HARRIET  BE  EC  HER  STOWE. 

Men  divine,  wrote  book  upon  book, 

Forcing  restitution, 
And  tried  to  prove  that  slavery  was 

A  God  sent  institution. 
To  speak,  to  write,  to  think  against 

This  inhumanity, 
Was  nothing  but  a  case  of  what 

Was  called  insanity. 

It  was  at  such  a  time  as  this 

That  Harriet  Beecher  Stowe, 
Called  "Uncle  Tom"  upon  the  scene, 

And  made  him  walk  before 
The  gaze  of  all  the  countries  'round, 

She  made  him  speak  and  cry, 
In  twenty  different  languages 

She  made  him  pray  and  sigh. 

She  then  asked  all  the  world  who  heard 

His  wild  distressing  prayer, 
If  'twas  not  likely  that  a  heart 

Humane  is  stationed  there; 
She  brought  forth    George  and  showed   his 
grand 

Affections  for  his  wife, 
His  love  for  liberty,  and  how 

He  fought  the  slavish  strife. 


HARRIET  BEECHER  STOWE.  67 

She  brought  Haley,  the  Negro  trader, 

Who  had  no  human  heart, 
Who  stole  the  virtue  of  his  slaves, 

And  then  the  lash  impart; 
Who  took  a  newly  wedded  wife 

Before  her  husband's  gaze, 
Could  the  devil  have  seen  all  this, 

He  would  have  stood  amazed. 

She  then  showed  forth  the  Christian   heart 

Of  Mister  Shelby's  wife, 
Who  sympathized  with  all  the  slaves 

In  their  discouraged  strife ; 
Who  wept  when  she  first  heard  the  news 

From  her  dear  husband  bold, 
When  she  asked  where  was  Uncle  Tom, 

He  said  "  the  brute  is  sold." 

These  things  and  hundreds,  thousands  more, 

This  noble  book  had  shown, 
And  there  stood  Harriet  Beecher  Stowe, 

Between  pulpit  and  throne; 
She  stood  nearer  the  Throne  of  God, 

Than  all  false  priests  before, 
And  turned  the  search  light  on  to  show 

The  heartache  and  the  woe. 


HARRIET  BE  EC  HER  STOWE. 

She  wrote  brave  words  and  spead  them, 

Upon  the  human  breeze, 
That  made  pro-slav'ry  clergymen, 

Draw  in  their  breath  and  sneeze ; 
Her  shafts  were  sent  hilt  deep  into 

The  tender,  human  heart, 
Just  like  the  shepherd  boy  who  smote 

The  giant  with  his  dart. 

This  book  had  made  the  world  grow  mad, 

With  slavery  and  its  crime, 
Before  the  bloody  battlefield, 

With  marching  tread  did  chime; 
Before  John  Brown  had  died  to  save, 

.  Before  great  Lincoln's  call, 
Before  brave  Sherman  reached  the  sea, 

Before  Grant  captured  all. 

She  called  from  out  its  slumb'ring  tomb, 

Affections  of  the  soul, 
She  armed  them  with  eternal  light, 

And  sent  them  forth  so  bold 
Against  the  greed,  the  gain,  the  lust, 

That  these  two  forces  fought, 
Like  Wolfe  and  Montcalm  on  the  plain, 

Till  right  had  error  wrought. 


HARRIET  BEECHER  STOWE.  69 

Harriet  Beecher  Stowe's  Monument. 

She  has  builded  a  human  monument 
The  walls  of  which  will  stand, 

Long  after  she's  departed  from 
The  dwellers  in  the  land, 

Long  after  buildings  have  crumbled, 
That  are  planted  on  the  sand. 

She  decided  to  build  for  others, 

And  the  building  sheltered  her  not, 

And  some  who  dwell  within  there, 
Through  all  time  shall  know  her  not, 

And  beneath  the  roof  of  the  building 
She'll  have  no  lot  or  part. 

And  yet  when  the  days  shall  have  ended, 
And  beneath  the  roof  tree's  shade, 

The  children  and  grand  children, 
.  In  childish  ways  have  played, 

And  passed  from  under  the  building, 
And  vanished  into  the  shade; 

Some  dweller  beneath  the  building, 
Thinking  of  when  it  was  new, 

May  say  as  his  heart  turns  backward, 
Keeping  his  a«;e  in  view, 

The  woman  who  built  this  building, 
Builded  better  than  she  knew. 


70  SONNET— OCTOBER. 

And  she,  though  she  has  passed  onward, 

Hearing  the  Master's  call, 
May  saj,  though  it  may  not  matter 

To  her  what  the  building  befall, 
That  it's  better  to  build  for  others, 

Than  to  have  no  building  at  all. 


Sonnet,  October. 

Here  in  sweet  Nature's  lonely  gale, 

The  leaves  are  gone ; 
The  autumnal  woods,  all  'round  our  vale, 

Have  glory  on. 

I  roam  these  woods  that  nature  crowns 

With  splendor's  glow; 
Where  the  company  of  trees  look  down 

On  fields  below. 

This  month  is  the  gloomiest  and  saddest 

Of  all  the  year ; 
For  in  it  nature's  summer  gladness 

All  disappear. 

Nature  all  around  serene  elates 

Us  from  the  sod  ; 
And  points  the  heart  and  mind  of  man, 

Towards  the  throne  of  God. 


MACRO— CUBA'S  LIBERATOR. 


71 


Maceo — Cuba's  Liberator. 

While  Washington  at  Valley  Forge, 
Endured  the  winter's  pest; 

And  while  he  was  taking  Yorktown 
Dear  Cuba  was  oppressed. 


72  MACEO-CUBAS   LIBERATOR. 

When  England  tried  the  second  time, 
To  rule  this  country  great; 

Brave  Cuba,  although  in  her  prime, 
Had  not  a  ship  of  state. 

When  Winfield  Scott  took  Mexico, 

And  captured  Vera  Cruz, 
Brave  Cuba  and  young  Maceo 

Were  punished  and  abused. 

When  John  Brown  died  that  we  might 
live, 

When  Lincoln  called  for  men ; 
Brave  Cuba  was  surrounded  with 

The  untold  Spanish  sins. 

When  Grant  and  Meade  fought  for  dear 

life, 

When  Lincoln  said  "you're  free," 
Brave  Cuba,  under  Spanish  strife. 
Said  "give  meliberty?" 

Thus  time  moved  on,  God  was  invoked, 
And  year  succeeded  year ; 

Brave   Cuba     fought — sometime    with 

hope, 
And  sometime  full  of  fear. 


MAC  BO-CUBA'S  LIBERATOR.  73 

But  God  who's  always  here  with  men, 

Had  Him  a  man  in  store; 
And  at  the  heights  of  Spanish  sins, 

He  called  forth  Maceo. 

When  Maceo  with  courage  strong 
Took  charge  of  battle  fields ; 

Like  withered  leaves  in  wintry  storms, 
The  enemies  did  yield. 

He  gave  this  dauntless,  brave  command, 

"  We  must  have  liberty  — 
And  in  the  name  of  God  and  man, 

Our  Cuba  must  be  free!" 

At  this  appeal  the  Island  shook, 
The  natives  said  they  would ; 

And  Maceo  with  anxious  looks, 
As  firm  as  fossils  stood. 

The  natives  all  were  'lectrified, 

At  sight  of  Maceo' s  form ; 
And  they  would  stand  and  do  or  die, 

At  Maceo 's  alarm. 

The  Spaniards,  anxious  to  succeed, 

Discarded  warring  rules; 
Resorted  to  the  foulest  deeds, 

Of  all  the  crim'nal  schools. 


74  MACEO— CUBAS  LIBERATOR. 

They  used  man's  wicked,  cunning  ways, 
They  gave  him  friend's  salute; 

They  falsified  to  ambush  him, 
They  took  his  life  like  brutes. 

But  e'er  he  died  he  told  his  men, 

That  Cuba  must  be  free ; 
The  death  he  died  has  given  them 

The  price  of  liberty. 

Arnold  became  his  country's  foe, 
Judas  betrayed  his  Christ; 

The  Spaniards  entrapped  Maceo 
At  manhood's  sacrifice. 

They  crucified  the  Son  of  man. 

His  cause  still  moves  the  world; 
They  burned  John  Huss  and  yet  he  stands, 
Before  us  as  a  pearl. 

They  killed  good  Abr'am  Lincoln, 

The  cause  for  which  he  died 
Still  moves  the  world,  still  cheers  men's 
hearts, 

With  men  he  still  abides. 
They  killed  the  noble  Maceo, 

The  world's  in  sympathy; 
It  says  that  foul  yet  implores 

That  Cuba  must  be  free. 


Y.  M.  C.  A,  FOUNDER.  75 

The  God  of  Israel's  Maceo, 

Of  Lincoln's  liberty. 
Has  written  "let  my  people  go," 

Dear  Cuba  shall  be  free. 

Dear  Cuba,  for  a  host  of  years, 

"Queen  of  the  Antilles," 
Thy  Maceo  without  a  fear, 

Has  died  to  set  thee  free. 


Y.  M.  C.  A.  Founder. 
SirGeo.  Williams. 

Sir  George  Williams,  noble  man, 
Half  'cent'ry  've  passed  away, 
Since  thou  first  didst  raise  thy  hand 
To  start  the  Y.  M.  C.  A. 

One  little  room  marked  the  spot, 
A  few  common  chairs  therein ; 
And  now  all  o'er  the  universe, 
Its  sifting  the  souls  of  men. 

A  few  young  men,  only  a  few, 
Paid  any  heed  to  thee, 
Today  thou'rt  heard  in  all  the  lands, 
Thou'rt  spread  from  sea  to  sea. 


76  Y.  M.  C.  A.  FOUNDER. 

I  think  how  many  a  thousand, 
Of  reckless,  wayward  men, 
Have  caught  the  inspiration, 
And  moved  off  from  their  sins. 

I  think  of  countless  mothers, 
Whose  hearts  have  leaped  with  joy, 
Because  this,  thy  noble  work, 
Has  saved  their  reckless  boy. 

I  think  of  unborn  millions, 
Who  yet  must  take  the  stage, 
WTho,  only  through  this  noble  work 
Can  face  the  future  age. 

"Forever  and  forever, 
As  long  as  life  has  woes," 
Thy  name  shall  be  re-echoed 
On  time's  terrestrial  shores. 

If  only  I  might  see  thee, 

To  gaze  upon  thy  face, 

To  grasp  thy  hand,  to  hear  thee  speak, 

Then  I  could  be  embraced. 

I  think  I  could  go  forward, 
With  brave  and  joyful  heart, 
Though  every  step  should  pierce  me, 
With  untold  fiery  dart. 


BEST  THINU  IN  THE  WORLD.     77 

But  I  must  be  contented, 
With  thy  likeness  and  thy  name, 
For  countless  millions  now  rejoice, 
Upon  thy  spreading  fame. 

And  I  am  left  to  wonder,  such 
That  I  may  stretch  my  hand, 
To  some  still  wearier  traveler 
In  this  same  shadow  land. 

I  gaze  upon  thy  likeness, 
As  young  men's  earthly  sage, 
Thv  work  is  old  and  thriving, 

y  O  ' 

But  thou  show'st  not  thy  age.. 

Dear  sir,  thou  art  not  old, 
Though  half  a  century  now, 
May  write  its  ragged  wrinkles, 
Up  and  down  thy  brow. 

And  even  sorrow  may  with 
A  shroud  thy  heart  enfold, 
Thou  art  not  now,  and  no, 
Thou  never  will  be  old. 


Best  Thing  in  the  World. 

What  is  the  best  thing  in  the  world? 
This  question  to  a  crowd  was  hurled. 


78      BEST  THING  IN  THE  WORLD. 

A  preacher  said  "that  grand  old  Book 
Which  beats  all  men  e'er  undertook." 

The  monk,  he  said,  "the  best  of  all, 
Is  time  alone  within  my  walls.*' 

The  sage,  he  whispered  in  a  chime, 
"The  best  is  the  right  use  of  time." 

The  fool  and  idler  both  did  sing, 
"Pleasure  is  the  best  of  things." 

Then  the  soldier  cried  aloud,  "fame," 
Spoke  the  statesman,  "mine  is  the  same." 

Then  a  maid  told  her  selection, 
"Why  of  course  its  my  complexion." 

Said  a  young  man,  "there  are  two  things, 
A  woman's  beauty,  and  how  she  sings." 

A  mother,  playing  with  some  curls, 
Said  that  "the  best  thing  in  the  world; 

Is  this  darling  here  in  my  arms, 
Which  we  and  angels  hold  as  charms." 

Then  the  wee  baby  gave  its  choice, 
And  it  seemed  like  an  angel's  voice; 

"The  bes  ting  dat  eber  was  or  is, 
Is  when  my  mama  dives  me  a  tiss." 


FROM  DEGRADATION  TO  EDUCATION.      79 

Conscience  whispers  and  this  is  heard, 
"Kindness,  kindness,  that  is  the  word." 


From  Degradation  Through 

Supplication  to  Education, 

The  Negro. 

I  was  once  far  from  civilization, 
As  vile  as  a  Negro  could  be ; 
I  wondered  if  all  the  creation, 
Could  save  a  poor  Negro  like  me. 

I  wandered  on  in  the  darkness, 
Not  a  ray  of  light  could  I  see; 
And  it  filled  my  heart  with  sadness, 
No  hope  for  a  Negro  like  me. 

But  by  the  wondrous  work  of  God, 
The  world's  second  Moses  came; 
And  through  the  sea  of  civil  strife, 
Brought  liberty  instead  of  shame. 

From  then  I  started  out  in  life, 
To  make  a  race  pride  mark ; 
But  prejudice  from  my  enemies, 
Kept  holding  me  in  the  dark. 


80      FROM  DEGRADATION  TO  EDUCATION. 

And  yet  within  that  self  same  race, 
There  are  some  valiant  men ; 
Who  gave  both  their  time  and  means, 
To  remove  this  dreadful  sin. 

My  enemies  both  reared  and  kicked, 
I  could  only  wait  and  trust ; 
But  good  men  defended  my  cause, 
Like  Doctors  Hartzell  and  Rust. 

"Shall  the  Negro  be  educated?" 
Is  being  discussed  by  some; 
But  while  they  are  discussing, 
The  good  work's  being  done. 

No  longer  in  darkness  I  wander, 
Education  is  shining  on  me; 
And  unto  my  brothers  I'm  trying, 
To  give  an  education  free. 

Dear  Lord,  I'll  e'er  give  thanks  to  Thee, 
For  Thy  unspeakable  gift, 
In  bringing  me  out  of  darkness, 
And  allowing  a  chance  to  lift. 

And  with  my  thanks  I  ask  Thy  aid, 
For  those  in  degradation, 
That  they  may  share  e'en  with  me, 
In  Christian  education. 


THE  MODEL  GIRL.  81 

The  Model  Girl. 

ToS— 

A  model  girl,  pure  from  her  birth, 
No  one  can  estimate  her  worth, 
And  on  this  dark  and  sinful  earth — 
She's  needed. 

She  goes  to  church  and  Sunday  school, 
The  Bible  is  her  vestibule, 
And  fam'lv  prayers,  her  mother's  rule — 
She  loves  them. 

She  always  tries  to  do  the  right, 
And  if  you  try  to  blur  and  blight, 
She'll  hit  you  with  the  Christian  light — 
She's  candid. 

Sometimes,  before  she  thinks,  she  speaks. 
You  know  in  this  a  woman's  weak, 
Hut  if  you  will  explain  the  freak— 
She'll  listen. 

And  if  she  sees  immoral  trash, 
She  treats  it  very  cool  and  rash, 
And  all  her  soul  seems  in  a  flash — 
She  shuns  it. 


82  THE  MODEL  GIliL. 

She  knows  the  evils  of  the  land, 
She  knows  the  wicked  ways  of  man, 
She  takes  a  high  and  lofty  stand — 
She  dreads  them. 

She  knows  if  woman  stands  aloft, 
The  wicked  men  will  scorn  and  scoff, 
And  yet  when  they  desire  betroth — 
She  charms  them. 

She  knows  that  if  she  mingles  low, 
The  evil  class  will  treat  her  so, 
And  those  who  try  to  upward  soar — 
Will  shun  her. 

She's  never  wrecked  herself  at  all, 
At  these  low  dissipating  balls 
Where  women  dance  and  virtue  falls — 
She  scorns  them. 

She  never  goes  in  public  places, 
Where  men  and  women's  evil  faces 
Are  ever  looking  for  disgraces — 
She  fears  them. 

She  never  strolls  the  streets  alone, 
Whene'er  the  sun  has  ceased  to  roam 
And  all  the  stars  so  brightly  shone — 
She  waives  it. 


TIIK  MODEL  GIRL.  83 

When  men  put  on  an  outside  show, 
To  see  if  woman  won't  adore, 
While  to  virtue  his  heart's  a  foe — 
She's  vex-ed. 

She  gives  pleasure  a  reverent  touch, 
She  never  tries  to  know  too  much 
Of  foolishness,  gab  and  all  su<  h — 
She's  seen  these. 

Pure  literature  attracts  her  eyes, 
Trash  novels  she  detests,  despise, 
She  sees  the  future,  hears  its  cries — 
"Protect  us!" 

She  knows  contentment  is  decay, 
That  discontent  brings  brighter  days 
By  men  and  women's  thriving  ways — 
She's  busy. 

She  knows  that  early  fragrance  flees, 
The  deepest  cup  hath  still  its  lees, 
And  she  thinks  there's  a  "yet  to  be" — 
She's  hopeful. 

She  sometimes  walks  in  slip'ry  places, 
But  pride  with  all  its  charming  graces, 
Makes  all  the  evil-minded  fices — 
Respect  her. 


84  THE  MODEL  GIllL. 

Sometimes  her  mind  is  fluctuation, 
Sometimes  her  soul  is  detestation, 
Sometimes  her  heart  is  admiration — 
She  usurps. 

You  see  her  as  she  skips  along, 
She  has  not  thought  of  any  wrong, 
She's  firm  for  right,  well  tried  and  strong — 
She's  dauntless. 

She  never  has  that  vain  belief 
That  someone's  watching  her  as  chief 
And  asking  every  one  in  brief — 
"Who  is  she?" 

There's  a  secret  she  calls  her  own, 

A  myst'ry  to  most  young  girls   unknown, 

And  'gainst  the  outside  worldly  tone — 

o  «/ 

It  cheers  her. 

She  knows  the  rock  once  cleft  for  all, 
She  stands  where'er  its  shadows  fall, 
And  when  she  leans  upon  its  walls — 
She's  strengthened. 

It  makes  the  blessed  Savior  smile 
To  see  a  trusty,  faithful  child 
Go  through  the  world  pure,  undefined- - 
She  knows  it. 


TITR  MODEL  GIRL.  85 

The  eye  may  try  to  be  a  charm, 
But  from  the  heart's  imperial  throng, 
Come  penciled  lines  of  right  and  wrong — 
She's  cautious. 

Time's  etching  gives  her  tone  of  thought, 
God's  etching  shows  divinely  bought 
Soul  stenciled  by  the  spirit  taught — 
She's  fix-ed. 

Her  sisters  all  should  imitate, 
Her  brothers  should  appreciate, 
Her  father  should  reconsecrate — 
And  mother. 

I  hope  her  Christian  spirit  bold 
Will  dwell  where  summer  seasons  roll, 
And  cheerful  hearts  will  ne'er  grow  old — 
She'll  like  it. 

And  when  time's  clouds  have  all  gone  by, 
And  she  has  quit  the  world  of  sighs, 
I  hope  the  place  beyond  the  skies — 
Will  take  her. 

Now  some  of  you  who  read  these  lines, 
May  try  to  form  within  your  minds, 
The  reason  why  I  write  this  rhyme — 
I  like  her. 


86  THE  MODEL  GIRL. 

Well  I  guess  that  it  must  be  true, 
And  if  you  knew  her  as  I  do, 
I  think  you'd  kinder  like  her  too- 
She  earns  it. 


Oh,  somewhere  in  this  shadowed  land, 

A  host  of  shining  angels  stand  ; 

Somewhere  the  sun  is  shining  bright, 

And  hearts  are  made  of  burdens,  light ; 

Somewhere  the  little  children  shout 

And  walk  the  streets,  their  hearts  are  stout; 

Somewhere  the  evil  hearts  of  men 

That  tempt  the  little  ones  to  sin 

Are  counted  as  a  wicked  shame, 

And  wicked  men  will  be  refrained — 

From  doing  evil,  dirty  work, 

Which,  from  the  young  ones,  virtue  jerk  ; 

Somewhere  good  people  congregate 

And  leave  off  those  who  dissipate 

And  make  them  have  a  strong  desire 

To  quit  their  ways  and  come  up  higher: 

Somewhere  young  men  appreciate 

The  girl  who  shuns  all  future  fates; 

Somewhere  good  deeds  are  recognized, 

And  virtue  counted  as  a  prize; 


LOVE'S  LABOR  LOST.  87 

Somewhere  the  angels  hover  'round 
To  dedicate  the  earthly  town 
Because  it  tries  to  do  the  right 
And  keep  the  Lord's  will  e'er  in  sight; 
Oh,  somewhere  there's  security 
To  live  a  life  of  purity, — 
Not  our  town. 


Love's   Labor  Lost. 

Sweetheart,  you  know  what  true  love  is, 
You  know  we  have  loved  each  other, 
You  know  that  we  have  sometimes  felt 
As  near  as  sister  and  brother. 

You  know,  my  dear,  the  time  has  been 
When  to  be  in  each  other's  sight 
And  to  talk,  and  hear  each  other  talk 
To  both  our  hearts  was  delight. 

You  know  it  has  not  been  so  long 
Since  we,  in  saying  good  night 
Would  fondly  hug  and  kiss  each  other, 
Oh  my!  what  a  change  tonight! 

Can  it  be  true  that  some  one  else 
Hah  entered  into  your  heart, 
And  tells  me  that  from  this  time  on 
I  shall  have  no  lot  or  part? 


88  DECEPTION. 

Can  it  be  true  that  all  my  love, 
Of  which  I  so  proudly  boast, 
Is  drift-wood  on  the  restless  sea 
And  my  task,  "Love's  labor  lost  ?" 


Deception. 

Well,  dearest  one,  I  hope  my  heart 

Will  stop  its  bitter  sigh, 

Because  it  never  more  can  share 

Thy  glorious  destiny; 

My  love  has  never  sought  reward, 

'Twas  joy  enough  for  me 

To  dwell  alone  at  certain  times 

And  cherish  thoughts  of  thee. 

My  mother  to  her  child  once  gave 

Affection's  untold  wealth, 

Since  then  I've  seen  the  swift  decay 

Of  hope,  and  joy,  and  health  ; 

1  murmured  not,  at  heaven's  decree, 

Though  thus  of  all  bereft, 

When  you  and  I  began  to  love 

A  world  of  bliss  was  left. 


DECKPTWN. 

Though  other  ties  thy  heart  now  bind 

While  we  but  drift  apart, 

Yet,  am  I  sinning  if  I  hide 

Thine  image  in  my  heart? 

So  sweet,  so  holy  was  the  spell 

By  love  around  me  cast 

That  I  am  blinded  to  all  love 

Since  this,  my  charm,  has  past, 

I  feel  that  you  another  love, 
Yet  there's  a  heavy  trace, 
And  all  the  love  of  others 
Those  bright  tints  can't  efface. 
I  hope  his  lot  a  joyous  one 
If  you  his  fate  control, 
I'll  try  to  seek  a  higher  fate — • 
The  union  of  the  soul. 

The  time  was,  when  I  looked  on  thee 

As  God  sent  future  bride, 

And  had  a  longing  in  my  heart 

To  thus  be  satisfied; 

But  it  is  best  for  you  and  I 

If  we  are  not  to  wed, 

To  know  before  we  go  too  far 

Upon  the  lover's  tread. 


LOVE  HKGATNED, 

Farewell,  beloved  one,  when  thy  brow 

The  etipid  crown  shall  bind, 

And  when,  somewhere  in  life's  abode 

You  and  someone  combine, 

Then  think  of  one  who  looked  on  thee 

With  more  than  human  pride, 

And  glories  in  the  thought  that  you 

Are  someone's  rightful  bride. 


Love  Regained » 

If  it  is  really  true  that  I  have  grieved  thee, 
You  whom  my  soul  has  always  loved  the  best, 
Can  you  not  come  to  me  once  more  forgiving, 
And  lay  your  head  again  upon  my  breast? 

Last  night  when  I  in  grief  and  sorrow  left  you, 
And  heajtd  the  rapid  slam  of  your  screen  door ; 
I  felt  that  I  toward  my  doom  was  going, 
And  love  and  joy  would  be  mine  nevermore. 

The  thought   that  caused   my  heart  to  bleed 

most  freely: 

I've  always  tried  to  go  the  true  love's  route, 
And  then  to  think  my  only  heart's  affection, 
Myself  and  word  did  disbelieve  and  doubt. 


LOVE  HKQAINED.  01 

And  then  I  felt  that  sill  my  earthly  efforts, 
Were  wasted — and  what  we  call  human  life, 
Was  nothing  but  a  sea  of  disappointment, 
Of  myth  and  pain,  of  sorrow,  grief  and  strife. 

Hut  since  I  have  received  from  you  a  letter, 
Which    says    that   you  have  called    me  back 

again, 

A  heavy  mist  has  gathered  up  before  me, 
When  it  is  gone  F  hope  there'll  be  no  pain. 

If  I  had  known  how  sadly  I  should  grieve  you, 

If  I  had  thought  that  it  was  the  last, 

There's  njthin*  in  the  world  had    made   me 

leave  you, 
And  now,  dear  heart,  I  hope  the  gloom  is  past. 

Can  you  not  see  how  I  have  missed  you,  dear 
est, 

How  I  regret  I  ever  gave  you  pain ; 
How  heretofore  I  held  you  first  and  nearestf 

0  love,  may  I  say  you  are  mine  again? 

1  will  be  kinder  to  you.     I  was  fretful; 
Life  had  so  much  that  was  too  hard  to  bear, 
I  did  not  understand  how  self -forgetful, 
Your  love  had  lightened  every  pain  and  care. 


92  LnVK  AND  FEAR  CONTEST. 

We  grow  too  sure  of  those  who  never  give  us 
A  single  anxious  thought;  they  are  our  own: 
I  did  not  dream  how  much  I  really  loved  you, 
Until  I  thought  my  priceless  treasure  gone. 

I  hate  to  think  of  sorrow's  painful  palace, 
I  could  not  stand  to  think  that  you  were  there; 
I  felt  that  you  wrere  passing,  while  I  love  you, 
Beyond  me,  among  men  that  you  could  bear. 

Yet,  if  'tis  true  that  you  are  still  my  lover, 
Your  own  pure  life   no  mocking  chance  has 

known ; 

Can  you  not  now  sweet  consolation  give  me, 
For  grief  and  doubt  that  have  so  bitter  grown  ? 

Can  you  not  just  for  my  sake  once  more  kiss  me ; 

And  we'll  forget  the  words  that  gave  us  pain, 

They  haunt  me  now, — and  that  you  love  and 
miss  me, 

May  we  now  call  our  doubts  true  love  regain 
ed? 


Love  and  Pear  Contest. 

They  say  that  in  each  human  heart, 
There  is  an  unseen  battle-field, 

Ton  which  two  fighting  forces  meet, 
And  neither  one  consents  to  vield. 


LOVE  AND  FEAR  CONTEST.  98 

I  don't  know  who  those  forces  are, 

There's  love  and  hatred,  hope  and  fear, 

There's  laughter  with  his  great  bazaar, 
There's  sorrow  with  its  bitter  tear. 

Once  love  stepped  out  upon  my  breast, 
And  gazing  at  the  vacant  skies; 

Had  thoughts  of  one  it  thinks  the  best, 
And  this  is  what,  aloud  it  cried: — 

Just  thoughts  of  her  is  music  sweet, 
Dear  A.  V. :  Oh  be  still  my  heart; 

And  darling  with  what  joy  it  speaks. 
Oh,  how  it  makes  my  senses  start. 

I  must  confess  it  rolls  along, 
In  scintillating  streams  of  bliss ; 

Until  it  mingles  with  my  song — 
And  thrills  me  like  a  pulsing  kiss. 

Then  fear  came  forth  upon  the  scene, 
And  said  "beware  of  passive  bliss; 

For  things  are  not  just  what  they  seem," 
Then  love  replied  in  words  like  this: 

I  recognize  the  Christian  plan, 
This  earthly  life  is  built  upon ; 

It  gives  a  wife  toev'ry  man, 
And  I'll  be  satisfied  with  one. 


94  FIXED  L 


Yes  surely  I'll  be  satisfied, 

If  I  can  get  the  one  I  love ; 
The  one  who's  taken  away  my  heart, 

And  carries  it  where'er  she  roves. 

But  fear,  I  trembled  at  one  thought; 

If  she  consents  to  be  my  bride, 
What,  oh  what,  if  I  can't  supply 

The  things  to  make  her  satisfied. 
Could  I  be  happy?  No,  not  I, 

I'd  rather  be  adrift  at  sea, 
With  the  storms  around  me  raging, 

And  no  one  there  to  care  for  me. 

But  I  will  do  the  best  I  can, 
The  noblest  precepts  to  obey ; 

But  sometimes  tides  of  fierce  desires, 
Around  my  heart  doth  surge  and  sway. 

I  must  restrain  the  thoughts  I  feel, 
Now  glowing  in  my  fervent  breast; 

They're  not  conducive  to  my  weal, 
Simply  a  love  and  fear  contest. 


Fixed  Love. 

You  know  that  I  love  you,  yet  bid  me  adieu, 
Can  happiness  live  when  absent  from  you? 
Will  sleep  on  my  eyelids  e'er  sweetly  alight 
When  greeted  no  more  by  a  tender  good  night? 


NEW  YKAK8  GREETING.  95 

Oh,  never,  for  deep  is  the  record  enshrined, 
Thy  look'  and  thy  voice  will  survive  in  my  mind  ; 
Though  age  may  the  treasure  of  memory  remove 
Unshaken  shall  flourish  the  thought  that  1  love. 

Through  life's  winding  valley, in  anguish, in  rest, 
Exalted  in  joy,  or  by  sorrow  depressed; 
Just  place  in  the  mirror  that  lies  on  my    heart 
Thine  image  shall  never  one  moment  depart. 

When  time,  life,  and  all  that  we  mortals  hold 
dear, 

Like  visions,  like  dreams,  shall  at  last  disap 
pear, 

Though  raised  among  seraphs  to  realms  above, 

Unshaken  shall  flourish  thethought  that  Hove. 

New  Year's  Greeting. 

To  a  loved   one. 

As  this  is  the  first  of  the  year, 

And  I  am  all  alone, 
I  thought  I'd  try  to  draw  me  near 

To  thee,  my  dear,  my  own. 

Yes,  I'm  alone,  and  don't  you  know 

I  do  not  like  to  speak, 
Yet  I  will,  as  'tis  fitting  now, 

My  wanted  silence  break. 


96  NEW  YEAR'S  QREETIKQ. 

There  is  a  love  that  in  my  soul 
Burns  silent  and  alone; 

It  kindles  flames  around  my  heart, 
You  know  that  heart's  your  own. 

The  dearest  idol  I  have  known 
Is  my  dear  Lord  above; 

The  next  one  which  I  long  to  own 
Is  you,  my  precious  love. 

I  call  myself  both  chaste  and  pure, 
And  free  from  passions  low ; 

Hence  I  know  what  I  say  is  true, 
For  conscience  speaketh  so. 

Thy  Christian  spirit  I  do  prize, 
For  this  I've  surely  seen  ; 

For  this  thou'rt  precious  to  my  eyes 
As  gold  and  jewels  sheen. 

Thy  sweet  face  I  esteem  indeed, 
So  modest  and  so  kind; 

Its  presence  I  forever  need, 
May  I  call  that  face  mine  ? 

I've  never  written  such  a  poem 

To  mortal  girl  before, 
Because  I've  never  loved  a  woman 

As  the  one  I  now  adore. 


Mr  as  SNOW  /•'/..  \KK  AND  THE  LOVERS.   97 

During  the  year  that's  past  and  gone, 
I've  launched  in  a  new  field: 

That  tender  chord  broke  with  a  song, 
And  now  to  love  I  yield. 

As  I  review  my  past  year's  work, 
Some  things  I've  left  undone; 

And  yet  I  feel  that  I  have  gained, 
If  your  confidence  I've  won. 

I  hope  that  I  have  not  done  that 

To  bring  thee  any  pain ; 
For  all  I've  done  was  done  in  love, 

Dear,  is  my  love  in  vain? 

Throughout  the  year  of  ninety — 

If  lovers  still  we  be; 
Let's  have  that  love   that  warms    both 
hearts 

And  let  our  minds  be  free. 


Miss  Snow  Flake  and  the  Lovers. 

Little  Miss  Snow  Flake  came  to  town 
All  dressed  up  in  a  velvet  gown ; 

And  nobody  looked  so  fresh  and  fail- 
As  little  Miss  Snow  Fl.-iUc,  I  declare. 


98    MISS  SNOW  FLAKE  AND  THE  LOVE  US. 

Out  of  the  cozy  cloud  she  stepped, 

Where  most  all  of  the  snowflakes  slept ; 
She  thought  her  beauty  would  ne'er  be  known 

tf 

If  in  a  crowd,  so  she  came  alone. 

All  alone  from  the  great  blue  sky 

Where  the  swift  clouds  went  scudding  by, 

All  the  way  from  the  bright  abode 
Down  somewhere  near  the  city  road. 

There  she  rested  near  out  of  breath, 
And  there  she  speed'ly  met  her  death; 

And  nobody  could  exactly  tell 

.lust  where  little  Miss  Snow  Flake  fell. 

But  a  very  prominent  young  man, 

Both  for  love  and  his  heart's  command 

Was  out  that  night  to  see  his  girl, 

Whenthe  Miss  Snow  Flake  gave  her  twirl. 

So  when  the  young  man  said  he'd  go, 
He  op'd  the  door  and  cried  out  "O!" 

And  he  fell  back  most  out  of  breath 
And  almost  scared  his  girl  to  death. 

That  Miss  Snow  Flake  of  whom  we  speak, 
Had  struck  the  young  man  on  the  cheek; 

His  shoes  were  of  the  patent  kind, 
His  overcoat  he'd  left  behind. 


THE  TRIP  I  WOULD  LIKE.  99 

And  s"he  says:  "What's  the  matter  dear?" 
He  says,  "See  how  it  snows  out  here," 

And  if  I  have  to  go  out  doors, 
I'll  get  frost  bitten  on  the  nose." 

These  two  did  love  from  depth  of  heart; 

In  danger's  realm  they  could  not  part; 
And  now  I  ask  both  men  and  maids, 

Whether  this  man  went  home  or  stayed. 


The  Trip  I  Would  Like  to  Take. 

Man  has  a  curious  appetite, 
He's  all  the  time  wishing  to  go; 
And  if  he  had  the  wings  of  a  kite, 
He'd  travel  this  wide  world  o'er. 

Sometime  I'd  like  to  go  away, 
Far  over  the  Rocky  Mountains ; 
Where  the  rainbows   dance  on  silv«ry 

rays, 
Of  California's  fountain. 

In  the  rocks  below,  in  the  trees  above, 
In  the  brooklet  and  the  river 
I  could  read  and  know  that  God  is  love, 
And  of  all  good  things  the  giver. 


100  THE  Tltll*  f  WOULD  LIKE. 

I  would  like  to  go  to  the  Yellowstone, 
And  witness  the  giant  geysers; 
To  see  its  grandure  there  alone, 
Would  surely  make  me  wiser. 

For  in  the  roar  the  hissing  stream, 
As  it  issues  from  the  crater; 
I  could  there  learn  more  of  the  bound 
less  theme, 
Of  a  kind  and  wise  Creator. 

Then  I  would  go  to  the  great  Black  Hills, 
Across  the  plains  of  Dakota; 
And  take  a  stroll  to  the  rippling  rills, 
And  lakes  of  Minnesota. 

I  would  sit  on  lake  Itaska's  shore 
Where  the  Mississippi  rises; 
And  Minnehaha's  laughing  roar 
Would  till  me  with  glad  surprises. 
Id  go  to  the  '•  Dreaaiy  city," 
Well  yes,  and  while  I  was  there ; 
I'd  make  myself  a  committee, 
To  witness  the  ruins  of  the  fair. 
I  would  journey  then  to  Southern  climes, 
'Mid  Florida's  blooming  bowers; 
There  to  sea  God's  work  sublime, 
In  the  beautiful,  fragrant  flowers. 


7V/ A'  '/'A'/ />  /    \\'<H'L1)  UK K.  101 

From  there  I'd  make  a  flying  trip, 
To  the  gateway  city  of  the  east; 
And  from  its  great  exhibits, 
And  Negro  arts  I'd  feast. 

And  then  a  little  cruise  I'd  take, 
Along  the  Atlantic  Ocean  ; 
To  where  the  earth  with  a  powerful  quake 
Put  Charleston  in  wild  commotion. 

I  would  still  continue  on  my  way. 
Through  the  Shenandoah  valley, 
Where  the  «'  boys  in  blue  and  the  boys 

in  gray," 
Would  waver  again  to  rally. 

Then  I'd  go  to  Niagara's  Falls, 
And  there  I  would  learn  and  wonder, 
For  God  can  teach  in  a  voice  that  calls 
From  the  cataract's  deafening  thunder. 
I'd  wander  over  into  Texas, 
To  visit  a  loving  sister, 
I'd  talk  of  the  days  gone  and  past, 
And  tell  her  how  I  had  missed  her. 
I  would  then  cross  into  Mexico, 
And  vi-it  those  ancient  mounds; 
That  were  built  hundreds  of  years  ago, 
Whose  mystery  man  has  not  found. 


102  THE  TRIP  I  WOULD  LIKE. 

I'd  go  to  Italy's  sunny  climes, 

To  the  "city  of  seven  hills," 

And  from  its  structure  of  ancient  times, 

And  grandure  I'd  be  filled. 

I'd  go  to  the  unspeakable  Turk, 

Among  the  Armenian  strife ; 

And  ask    them    how    from    conscience 

clear, 
They  still  took  human  life. 

I'd  go  before  the  courts  of  France, 
Where  Waller  was  in  jail ; 
I'd  prick  theirears  with  facts,  and  make 
Their  conscience  go  his  bail. 

Then  I  would  journey  to  the  North, 
To  see  that  Shakespearian  land  ; 
Where  Hamlet  said  from  conscious  wrath 
"What  a  piece  of  work  is  man." 

I  would  then  go  to  the  Holy  Land, 
Where  the  Saviour  was  crucified, 
Then  I  could  better  keep  His  commands, 
Seeing  the  place  where  He  died. 
I'd  traverse  all  the  paths  of  Paul, 
Among  the  various  nations; 
Then  I'd  go  where  man  had  his  fall, 
And  view  the  land  of  creation. 


THE  TRIP  I  WOULD  LIKE,  103 

I'd  then  go  into  Egypt  land, 
Where  Joseph  was  sent  by  God, 
I'd  stand  where  Moses  gave  command, 
I'd  tread  where  Israel  trod. 

I'd  go  into  Africa's  Jungles. 
Where  the  Bible  has  never  been, 
And  attempt  God's  word  to  mumble, 
In  the  hearts  of  heathen  men. 

I'd  visit  then  the  Isles  of  the  sea, 
And  view  those  novel  scenes, 
I'd  tell  the  people  what  to  be, 
And  not  what  they  should  seem. 

If  I  was  able  Christian  friends, 
To  travel  this  journey  through, 
It  would  not  be  for  sights  or  scenes, 
But  teaching  men  to  be  true. 

And  if  I  could  on  this  journey  roam, 
My  trip  would  not  be  ended; 
I'd  like  to  view  the  eternal  home, 
And  there  be  recommended. 


104  ALOXK  WI  I'll  ./A'.sTX. 

Alone  with  Jesus. 

Over  the  hills  and  dales,  Jesus,  that  I  strolled 
in  the  long  ago, 

I  am  wandering  once  again  my  Lord,  where 
dame  nature's  teachings  glow; 

And  I  pause  by  the  \\py  to  whisper,  Lord,  to 
the  blossoms  sweet  and  fair, 

A  poor  little  fudacl  sorrow,  Lard,  there's  no 
body  else  to  care. 

Springtime  with  all  its  joys,  Jesus,  is  out  on 

the  old  highway, 
But  the  breezes  sigh  as  the}r  pass  me  by  and 

over  the  meadows  stray  ; 
Mournfully  sigh  the  breezes,  Lord,   as    they 

pass  me  standing  there, 
By  the  pine  tree  row   where  the  daises  grow, 

and  nobody    for  me  cares. 

Standing  alone   with  the  trees,  my  Lord,  I  am 

lost  in  a  pensive  dream, 
I  am  floating  away    through   the    happy    day, 

when  my  youthful  conscience  gleam, 
The  conscience  that  .-ha red  my   love   for   you, 

The  conscience  that  smiled  as  fair, 
As  the  promise  true  I  was  glad    to    view,  with 

nobodv  else  to  care. 


.i/y>.v/-:  WITH  JKsri*.  105 


Over  the  hills  and  dales,  Jesus,  in  the  shadow 

ing  rool  of  dav, 
COMICS  the  echo  low  of  long  ago  the  tendorest 

things  to  say. 
And  I  smile  anew  as  the  twilight  conies  to  ban 

ish  1113-  long  despair 
With  a  thought  of  You  that  is  sweet  and  pure 

and  wonder  if  You  will  care. 

Something  speaks   to  me,   Jesus,  the  breex- 

es  are  singing  low, 
Something  that  thrills  the  conscience,  Lord, 

and  gives  them    a  brighter  glow; 
Something  that  soothes  the  pinching  pain  I 

have  patiently  learned  to  wear, 
Through  the  endless  day  on  the  sweet  high 

way,  it  seems,  Lord,  that  you  are  there. 

Then  Jesus  said   "I'm  with  you   now,  and 

will  be  with  you  always, 
We'll  go  together  and  make  things    better 

along  the  sweet  highway," 
We  strolled  through  the  meadows  together, 

the  days  seemed  endless  fair, 
lie  told  me  of  His  home   on   high  and  the 

inanv  mansions  there. 


106  MY  BIBLE, 

My  Bible. 

From  Santa  Glaus'  most  sacred  nook, 
Came  forth  this  little  prayerful  book, 
On  Christmas  day. 

As  the  old  year  is  past  and  gone, 
And  the  new  year  begins  with  song, 
I'll  read  its  ray. 

As  we  look  back  o'er  our  past  lives. 
And  see  from  whence  blessings  derived, 
We  all  should  pray. 

Oh !  who  so  brave  with  earthly  care, 
As  not  to  give  an  humble  prayer, 
Some  part  of  day  ? 

What  heart  so  clear,  so  pure  within, 
That  needeth  not  some  check  from  sin, 
Needs  not  to  pray  ? 

Mid  each  day's  anger,  what  retreats, 
More  needful  than  the  mercy  seat, 
On  that  last  day  ? 

What  thoughts   more   dear  than  that  our 

O 

God,  His  face  should  hide 
And  say  through  life's  swelling  tide, 
No  time  to  hear? 


MY  RtnLK.  107 

You  have  launched  your  boat  on  life's  gid- 

*     dy  sea, 

And  your  ;ill  is  afloat  for  eternity, 
When  you  have  no  time  to  pray. 

You  have  chosen  the  world,  with  its  mis 
named  pleasures; 

You  have  chosen  the  world  before   heav 
en's  own  treasures, 
If  you  have  no  time  to  pray. 

When  the  stars  are  concealed,  the  rudder 

gone, 
Heaven  will  be  sealed   to   the  wandering 

one, 
Who  ha*  no  time  to  pray. 

The  grave  shall  yield  its  prize  when  from 

the  wondering  skies, 
Christ  shall  with  wondering  angels  come, 

to  wake  those  sleeping  in  the  tomb, 
Then  you'll  have  no  time  to  pray. 

Oh  !  may  it  ever  be  said,  that  this    book, 
by  us,  shall  be  read, 

And,  may  we  all  together  meet,  Embrac 
ing  the  Redeemer's  feet, 
For  we  have  time  to  pray. 


108  FASHION. 

Fashion. 

Master  of  the  woman's  kingdom. 
What  is  this  men  say  of  thee? 

Thou  art  what  the  woman  honors, 
Thou  art  all  some  care  to  be! 

And  they  say,  you're  loved  by  many, 
Loved  too  often,  loved  too  well, 

Just  as  if  there  could  be  any 
Over  loving  in  thy  swell. 

Sir,  no  doubt  these  dear  good  people, 

Were  you  not  their  earthly  God, 
Could  fruild  them  a  Christian  steeple 

Up  to  heaven,  without  a  hod. 
_•    Toa  and  Solomon  the  wise  man, 

Are  two  fellows  of  a  kind, 
Just  to  please  the  wants  of  woman, 

You  would  leave  your  soul  behind. 
And  those  sisters  that  can't  catch  you, 

What  a  plight  they  must  be  in  ! 
For  the  song  you  sing  oft  leads  them 

To  commit  an  awful  sin. 
Now  all  wicked  aspirations, 

Do  not  spring  from  souls  depraved 
Into  fashion.-     Its  elation 

Is  the  sanctity  it  craved. 


19 


In  the  world's  long  reign  of  struggles, 
Thou  hast  played  an  active  part  ; 

Hast  thou  during  all  thy  journey, 
Mended  up  a  broken  heart? 

Thou  hast  found  some  so  despondent, 
Who  the  name  of  God  despise; 

Hast  thou  tried  to  once  control  by 
Pointing  over  to  Paradise? 

When  thou  tindest  men  and  women, 
Struggling  for  the  higher  life, 

Dost  thou  lend  a  hand  to  help  them? 
No,  thou  causest  human  strife  ! 

Woman  tries  to  be  thy  servant, 
Disobeys  dame  Nature's  laws, 

Ere  she  reaches  thirty  summers, 
Shattered  frame  and  sunken  jaws. 

Ere  she  comes  to  age  of  duty, 

Her  own  grave  she's  quickly  dug, 

Simply  'cause  thy  longing  beauty. 
Keeps  her  body  in  a  shrug. 

You  go  with  them  to  the  church  house, 
They  do  not  hear  the  preacher; 

You  are  all  their  heart's  elation, 
You  are  their  Sunday  teacher. 


110  FASHION. 

Thou  hast  seized  the  cross  of  Jesus, 
Loaded  it  with  new  born  sins ; 

Overloaded  it  with  folly, 
Placed  it  on  His  back  again, 

Thou,  in  thy  domain  of  pleasure, 

Crush  the  thorns  through  Jesus'  crown; 

Making  men  laugh  at  His  passions, 
And  the  blood  that's  trickling  down. 

Thou  art  in  the  great  theatres, 
Thou  art  on  the  ball  room  floor; 

Thou  art  in  the  gambler's  dungeon, 
Thou  dost  all  men's  sorrows  know. 

Thou  hast  severed  many  fam'lies, 

Children  off  from  home  have  strayed ; 

Father  sits  there  broken  hearted, 
Mother  joined  thy  great  parade. 

Well,  no  doubt  you  had  your  troubles, 
Devils  blue  that  fought  your  hopes ; 

But  you  have  it  back  in  double, 
Woman's  kingdom  in  a  lope. 

If  your  lady  love  stuck  by  you, 

In  the  mediaeval  day, 
Ah  !  dear  fashion,  here  is  to  you, 

In  these  times  that  is  the  way. 


STRONG  DRINK.  Ill 

Always  sure  you  have  your  glory, 

It  increases  and  takes  well; 
What  the  end  is  of  thy  story, 

There's  no  paragraph  to  tell. 

At  thy  feet  a  million  people 

Lie  today  without  a  breath  ; 
Who,  in  worshiping  thy  steeple, 

Found  an  everlasting  death. 


Strong  Drink. 

There  is  a  crime  upon  this  land, 
That  works  both  night  and  day, 

It  gives  its  wicked,  dark  command, 
The  hearts  of  men  it  swaya. 

It  brings  men  from  all  ranks  of  life, 
Down  to  the  brutish  tribe, 

Where  everything  is  war  and  strife, 
And  wickedness  abide. 

It  goes  into  the  sacred  homes, 
Where  peace  and  love  should  be ; 

It  makes  the  children  long  to  roam, 
And  home  affections  flee. 


112  STRONG  DRINK. 

It  knocks  the  noble  mother  clown, 

It  kicks  her  on  the  floor, 
And  makes  her  husband  give  her  frown, 

Which  follows  with  a  blow. 

Sometimes  it  curses  mother  dear, 
And  stabs  her  bleeding  heart, 

And,  filled  with  sorrow,  love,  and  fear, 
From  husband's  face  departs. 

It  strips  the  children  naked  and 
Leaves  them  without  their  food; 

It  breaks  the  fam'ly  coral  strand, 
And  leaves  things  dark  and  rude. 

It  takes  the  young  man  in  his  prime, 
And  makes  him  curse  his  mother, 

But  this  is  the  beginning  crime, 
It  takes  him  even  further. 

It  makes  him  take  the  spotless  heart 
Of  some  bright,  prosperous  maid, 

And  take  it  to  the  demon  mart, 
And  there  has  it  arrayed. 

It  makes  her  break  the  marriage  vow, 

While  in  her  honey  moon, 
And  long  from  his  demoniac  rows, 

To  roam  and  cure  her  swoons. 


STRONG  DRINK.  113 

It  makes  the  young  man  poison  all 

The  tissues  of  her  system, 
And  various  diseases  make 

This  maid  their  deathly  victim. 

He  soon  vacates  this  world  himself, 
And  leaves  a  weeping  widow, 

With  mind,  and  soul,  and  heart  bereft, 
A  past  all  dark  and  bitter. 

He  leaves  with  her  an  infant  child, 

With  an  intemperate  birth  ; 
To,  if  it  lives,  go  and  defile 

Some  other  one  of  worth. 

This  demon  takes  a  million  youths 

In  every  passing  year, 
And  makes  them  disregard  the  truth, 
And  give  to  right  a  jeer. 

It  strikes  a  million  mothers'  hearts, 
That  should  be  filled  with  joy, 

And  makes  their  inner  senses  start 
With  '»  Where's  my  precious  boy?*' 

It  takes  a  million  mid-life  men, 
From  out  the  state  and  church, 

And  takes  them  to  its  wicked  den 
Where  conscience  walks  with  crutch. 


114  STRONG  DRINK. 

It  takes  the  old  retiring  sage, 
Who  should  give  good  advice, 

And  makes  him,  in  his  ripe  old  age 
Detest  the  living  Christ. 

Tt  makes  the  leaders  of  the  state 
Forget  that  man  needs  limit, 

And  names  this  crime  incjustrv  great, 
Because  there's  money  in  it. 

It  fills  our  penitent'ry  walls, 

It  runs  the  county  farms; 
It  overflows  the  prison  stalls, 

With  all  its  death-like  charms. 

Its  fruits  are  the  asylums,  and 
Poor-houses,  and  hospitals, 

The  gambling  hell,  the  ill  famed  house, 
Where  satan  plays  the  fiddle. 

It  wrecks  the  system  of  a  man, 

Promotes  arterial  action, 
Inflames  the  liver  and  it  stands 

Amidst  diseases'  factions. 

This  prej's  upon  the  active  lungs, 
Which  paints  the  hectic  cheek, 

And  prophecies  a  sepulcher 
For  a  consumptive  freak. 


STRONG  DRINK.  116 

This  follows  on  the  fatal  train, 

Promoting  untold  sadness, 
Until  it  strikes  upon  the  brain, 

Which  brings  distressing  madness. 

The  victim  feels  himself  in  hell 

While  he's  with  living  men; 
And  he  could  whet  the  dagger  well, 

To  take  the  life  of  friends. 

His  wicked  passions  are  inflamed, 
With  crime,  with  lust,  with  anger, 

And  drops  his  heart  in  human  shame 
Beneath  all  human  candor. 

He  seeks  to  hold  relentless  war, 

With  God,  or  man,  or  self; 
All  men  to  him  are  at  a  par, 

His  mind  is  all  bereft. 

This  crime  is  universal, 

It  travels  this  wide  world  o'er, 

It  makes  men's  hearts  reversal, 
And  puts  conscience  out  the  door. 

It  has  swallowed  generations, 
And  made  whole  nations  shrink ; 

Its  mission  is  damnation, 

This  crime  is  named  "Strong  Drink." 


116  SAM  JONES. 


Sam  Jones. 

Who  is  it  for  the  last  two  weeks 

Has  been  in  our  town. 
And  on  the  end  of  every  tongue 

We  hear  his  name  resound? 

Who  is  it  every  night  and  day, 
Would  draw  a  mighty  crowd, 

And  from  the  depth  of  his  own  heart, 
Poured  forth  God's  truth  aloud? 

Who  was  it  that  appealed  to  all, 

To  every  class  of  men, 
And  showed  the  dreadful  wickedness, 

In  their  indulging  sins? 

Who  was  it  called  the  children  out 

And  told  them  what  to  do, 
And  told  them  what  they  must  forbid, 

To  be  God's  children  true? 

Who  touched  that  little  tender  chord 
Within  their  youthful  hearts, 

And  deep  down  in  their  youthful  souls 
Did  God's  own  word  impart? 


SAM  JONES.  117 

Who  called  (he  mothers  out  one  day 

And  opened  to  their  view, 
The  way  they  must  through  life's  conflicts 

Lead  their  dear  children  through? 

Who  told  them  that  their  mission  was 

More  sacred  than  them  all, 
That  they  built  up  a  platform  where 

The  child  would  stand  or  fall? 

Who  told  the  wives  that  selfsame  day 

What  was  their  sacred  duty, 
And  told  the  daughters,  young  and  old, 

That  character  was  beauty? 

Who  told  the  young  men  that  the  world 

Was  hanging  on  its  fate, 
And  waiting  for  some  noble  men 

To  fill  the  church  and  state  ? 

And  then  who  told  the  fathers  dear 

That  they  too  had  a  hand, 
That  on  the  fam'ly's  record  book 

Were  traces  of  their  hands  ? 

Who  told  them  that  the  faithful  wife, 
Who  was  the  queen  of  home, 

Were  due  all  his  affections,  that 
He  had  no  time  to  roam? 


118  A  HUMAN  ARTIST. 

Who  told  them  that  those  children  dear 

Now  playing  at  mother's  knee, 
Depended  on  their  father's  strength, 

They'd  be  what  father'd  be? 
Who  called  men  from  the  gambling  hell, 

And  told  them  that  the  cards, 
That  they  had  pushed  from  day  to  day 

Would  their  own  child  retard? 
Who  called  men  from  the  low  saloons 

And  told  them  that  the  cup 
Would  cause  their  sons  to  be  like  them, 

No  better  than  a  pup. 
Who  drew  the  tears  to  Christian  eyes, 

And  caused  their  souls  to  weep; 
Who  made  some  sinners  cry  aloud, 

''I'll  try  God's  word  to  keep?" 
But  time  is  brief  and  I  must  stop, 

Do  you  all  understand ; 
Excell  and  Steward  both  were  there, 

But  Sam  Jones  was  the  man. 

A  Human  Artist. 

Would  that  I  were  an  artist 
And  while  I  stand  in  time 
I  could  show  our  youths  eternity, 
WVile  they  are  in  their  prime. 


MAID  AND  MOSQUITO.  119 

-Would  that  I  were  an  artist, 
And  to  this  American  nation 
I'd  picture  out  the  lynching  crime 
And  show  its  revelation. 

Would  that  I  were  an  artist, 
I  would  draw  a  human  heart, 
I'd  show  to  men  and  women 
The  effects  of  corrupted  parts. 

And  then  I'd  outline  Paradise, 
And  give  a  celestial  view, 
I'd  show  to  men  their  future  home, 
If  while  on  earth  they're  true. 


Maitl  and  Mosquito. 

A  maiden  sat  at  midday  hour, 
Beneath  a  shady  tree, 
She  heard  a  noise  within  her  bower, 
**  My  soul,  what  can  it  be?" 

She  looked  around,  but  looked  in  vain, 
For  nothing  met  her  gaze, 
She  quieted  down  to  read  again, 
Its  voice  -igain  was  raised. 


120  MAID  AND  MOSQUITO. 

Hark !   hush  !   I  know  it  can't  be  fur, 
'Tis  clearer  than  before, 
Is  it  the  whistle  of  the  car, 
Or  distant  thunder's  roar? 

Ah!   soon  I'll  know  for  here  it  conies, 
My  nerves  quake  in  their  bud, 
For  with  its  long  and  pointed  tongue 
'Twill  pierce  and  drink  my  blood. 

My  doom  is  sealed,  I  know  my  fate, 
O !   would  that  I  were  a  man, 
He  darts  from  his  aerial  state 
And  lights  upon  her  hand. 

She  screamed  for  help  and  raised  a  stick 
And  fought,  for  she  could  not  hide, 
The  great  mosquito  gave  a  kick, 
Fell  from  her  hand  and  died. 

She  could  not  read  because  she  hud 
Deep  meditating  thoughts, 
She  stood  and  gazed  upon  the  spot 
Where  she'nd  the  skeeter  fought. 

But  present!}'  she  heard  a  noise 
Circling  around  her  head, 
And  there  was  a  score  of  skeeters, 
Singing  songs  of  the  dead. 


MAONA  EST  VER1TAS.  1 

She  closed  her  book  and  sat  upright, 
The  skeeters  increased  their  mew, 
She  saw  she  could  not  stand  it  long, 
So  she  grabbed  her  book  and  flew. 


Magna  est  Veritas. 

I  want  to  be  a  soldier, 
From  realms  of  heavenly  light, 
Be  pure  in  soul,  and  bold  in  heart, 
And  guide  all  mankind  right. 

I  want  to  serve  the  weary, 
And  cause  a  light  to  shine 
In  every  path  that's  dreary, 
To  cheer  when  strength  declines. 

I  want  that  meek  and  tender  glory 
That  fills  the  soul  with  life, 
So  dear  to  youth,  to  age  and  hoary, 
To  all  so  dear  and  free  from  strife. 

Our  lives  nre  unincumbered 
By  depressing  want  and  woe, 
And  the  days  fly  by  unnumbered, 
Smoothly  down  time's  path  they  go. 


122  MA&NA  EHT  VERITAB. 

I'm  trying  to  forge  a  key 
To  ope  the  giites  of  heaven ; 
That  key's  in  the  hearts  of  men, 
And  back  its  bolts  are  driven. 

Lord  strengthen  me,  that  while  I  stand 
On  the  rock,  and  strong  in  Thee, 
I  may  stretch  out  a  loving  hand 
To  wrestle  a  troubled  sea. 

Lord,  teach  me,  that  I  may  teach 
The  things  thou  dost  impart, 
Help  me  and  my  wants  to  reach 
The  depths  of  many  a  heart. 

"To  place  my  thoughts  in  one  line," 
In  a  decoration  of  beauty, 
And  get  behind  my  conscience, 
My  whole  life's  work  is  duty. 

These  words  come  to  my  mind, 

"The  work  of  the  world  is  done  by  a 

few," 

These  words  come  from  my  conscience, 
"God  looks  for  a  part  to   be  done  by 

you." 


JUST  MARRIED.  123 

Just  Married. 

You've  launched  in  a  new  vessel, 
And  down  life's  stream  you're  going, 
Remember  that  life's  tides  will  rise, 
And  life's  winds  will  be  blowing. 

But  while  the  storms  are  raging, 
Stand  by  each  other's  side, 
And  just  as  'tis  when  all  is  calm, 
Your  boat  will  stem  the  tide. 

Eternal  love  and  wisdom  drew 

The  plan  of  earth  and  skies, 

Let  His  great  love  be  e'er  your  guide 

Throughout  your  married  lives. 

May  your  lives  be  prosperous, 

And  always  full  of  love, 

And  may  you  both  be  led  by  Him 

Whose  home's  in  heaven  above. 

All  earthly  good  we  wish  thee, 

All  good  for  thee  and  thine, 

And  still  not  only  earthly, 

Hut  all  that  is  divine. 

May  heaven  and  earth  both  mingle, 

May  earth  and  heaven  be  one 

All  through  your  earthly  journey, 

Till  set  your  earthly  sun, 


124  WOMAN  TN  CONGRESS. 

The  haart  that  you  have  given, 
The  heart  that's  given  to  you, 
May  both  be  joined  together, 
May  both  be  good  and  true. 

In  shadow  and  in  sunshine, 

In  sighing  and  in  song, 

May  heaven  bless  your  union, 

Throughout  your  whole  life  long. 


Woman  in  Congress. 

Well,  a  woman  went  to  congress, 

Because  she  was  elected  ; 
She  lived  in  a  woman's  era, 

Hence  she  was  not  objected. 

All  of  the  leading  problems 
Of  the  country's  weal  or  woe, 

Were  discussed  while  there  at  congress, 
And  her  mind  was  all  aglow. 

And  a  lady  friend  said  to  her ; 

"Did  you  catch  the  speaker's  eye?" 
"I  sure  did,  and  I'll  tell  you 

The  simple  reason  why!" 


LIFE  PICTURES.  125 

"I  were  my  navy  blue  bloomers, 

And  heliotrope  skirt  waist; 
And  his  eyes  were  ever  on  me, 

I  dressed  to  suit  his  taste." 

This  woman  was  a  congressman 

She  had  the  states  at  heart ; 
Of  course  she  had  to  dress  that  way, 

For  that's  a  woman's  part. 


Life  Pictures. 

One  little  look  from  mother, 
Has  caused  the  innocent  child, 
To  go  into  spasmodic  shame 
Or  a  distillation  of  smiles. 

Just  one  little  word  when  spoken, 
In  a  soft  and  gentle  tone, 
May  send  reviving  spirits 
Into  a  heart  of  stone. 

Sometimes  a  soul  that's  frigid, 
Though  frozen  up  for  years, 
May,  by  an  act  of  kindness 
Be  melted  into  tears. 


126  QUIETUDE. 

So  we,  whose  lives  are  lighted 

7  O 

With  all  the  world  holds  dear, 
Should  give  to  those  less  favored 
A  kindly  word  of  cheer. 

These  little  things  we  count  for  naught, 
Hold  all  our  greatest  power, 
The  dewdrop  on  the  thirsty  bud 
Opens  the  fragrant  flower. 


Quietude. 

When  my  daily  toil  is  ended 
And  the  sun  begins  to  wane, 
O.  if  I  could  find  some  quietude, 
To  dispel  my  care  and  pain. 

What  a  peaceful  change  I'd  witness, 
How  my  heart  with  rapture'd  glow, 
While  the  murmurs  of  the  quietude 
Lull  my  soul  in  sweet  repose. 

Quietude  while  I  am  busy, 
Calmly  on  the  bustling  shore, 
Better  hearts  than  mine  can  love  thee, 
Purer  lives  thy  peace  adore. 


.1  CHRISTMAS  GIFT.  127 

Should  perchance  someone  enjoying 
Kesidence  within  thy  shrine, 
Bury  in  thy  placid  bosom, 
All  his  cares  along  with  mine. 


A  Christmas  Gift. 
(Bible.) 

Do  you  know  that  this  is  Christmas, 
And  this  little  book  is  sent 

As  a  messenger  of  One  who 

Came  to  earth  with  good  intent? 

Came  to  earth,  left  home  in  glory, 
On  that  first  cold  Christmas  day, 

And  He's  left  this  as  a  token, 
Showing  us  the  right  of  way. 

When  you  ponder  o'er  its  pages, 
Think  of  how  the  Savior  died, 

How  He  suffered  men's  outrages, 
Loved  them,  yet  was  crucified. 

Can  we  count  redemption's  treasure, 
Scan  the  glory  of  God's  love? 

Such  shall  be  the  boundless  measure 
Of  His  blessings  from  above. 


I £8  THE  NEGRO'S  "AMERICA." 

When  the  Christmases  are  over, 
And  the  Savior  comes  again, 

May  you  join  the  happy  chorus, 
And  in  glory  be  ordained. 

The  Negro's  "America." 

My  country,  'tis  of  thee, 
Sweet  land  of  liberty, 

Would  I  could  sing; 
Its  land  of  Pilgrim's  pride 
Also  where  lynched  men  died 
With  such  upon  her  tide, 

Freedom  can't  reign. 

My  native  country,  thee 

The  world  pronounce  you  free 

Thy  name  I  love ; 
But  when  the  lynchers  rise 
To  slaughter  human  lives 
Thou  closest  up  thine  eyes, 

Thy  God's  above. 

Let  Negroes  smell  the  breeze, 
So  they  can  sing  with  ease 

Sweet  freedom's  song; 
Let  justice  reign  supreme, 
Let  men  be  what  they  seem 
Break  up  that  lyncher's  screen, 

Lay  down  all  wrong. 


FLEETING  SPRING.  129 

Our  fathers'  God,  to  Thee, 
Author  of  liberty, 

To  Thee  we  sing ; 
How  can  our  land  be  bright? 
Can  lynching  be  a  light? 
Protect  us  by  thy  might, 

Great  God  our  King! 


Fleeting  Spring. 

Friends,  my  dear  friends,  do  you  know 
That  Springtime's  April  is  gone, 

And  lovely  May  with  all  its  show, 
Has  nature's  spring  coat  on? 

Birds,  little  birds,  yes  you  know 

That  it  is  beautiful  spring; 
From  tree  to  tree,  the  birdies  go, 

On  fleeting  wing ! 

Quaker,  quaker,  do  you  know 

That  the  yellow  is  going? 
More  than  that  do  you  know 

That  the  green  is  growing? 

Singer  of  songs,  do  you  know 

That  youth  is  flying? 
That  age,  at  the  lock  of  your  life, 

Will  soon  be  prying? 


130  TIME— ETERNITY. 

Lover  of  life,  do  you  know 
That  youth's  hue  is  going? 

More  than  that,  do  you  know 
That  the  gray  is  showing? 


Time — Eternity. 

The  Saint's  Departure. 

I  had  a  dream  the  other  night, 

I  saw  some  strange  and  mystic  sights 

That  puzzled  me ; 
Some  things  I  saw  resembled  time, 
And  some  resembled  more  sublime — 

"Eternity." 

The  oriental  Persian  scenes, 

The  tropics-  with  their  bright  sunbeams, 

Could  not  compare. 
And  even  Italy's  soft'ning  hillss, 
Pleasant  dales  and  rippling  rills, 

Would  stand  aglare. 

I  saw  the  sun  rise  in  the  East, 

And  watched  to  see  its  Western  feast, 

It  ntrer  set ; 

I  wandered  'round  among  the  throng, 
To  see  if  any  soul  was  wronged, 

But  none  I  met. 


TIME -ETERNITY.  131 

They  all  had  on  their  bright  attire, 
It  seem'd  they  nerer  would  retire 

To  workman's  garb; 
I  wondered  how  they  could  exist, 
Forever  in  a  pleasure  mist, 

My  senses  throbb'd. 

I  strolled  around  the  city's  limit, 

To  find  the  tombstones  that  were  in  it, 

And  as  I  went 

I  saw  towers  and  castles  high, 
But  not  a  white  slab  to  my  eye 

Said  monument. 

I  sought  to  find  the  destitute, 

And  wondered  why  they  were  so  mute, 

I  felt  for  them ; 
I  could  not  get  a  single  sigh, 
Nor  even  see  a  tearful  eye, 

No  face  was  grim. 

I  went  into  a  chapel  grand, 

Its  walls  were  gold.     I  saw  a  man 

Stand  by  the  door; 

"There's  no  place  for  the  poor  I  see!" 
And  he  this  answer  made  to  me: 

"We  have  no  poor." 


132  TIME— ETERNITY. 

I  was  perplexed,  so  I  sat  down, 
Beneath  a  shade  tree's  springtime  sound 

And  this  implied: 
"Sir!    whence  come   all    these    loving 

scenes, 
This  landscape  to  our  eyes  serene, 

Sir  !   where  am  I?" 

And  then  out  from  among  the  leaves, 
And  from  the  pathway's  flower  wreathes, 

And  'cross  the  stream; 
There  came  a  thronging  band  of  saints, 
With  countenance  above  complaints, 

Joy  reigned  supreme. 

At  first  I  thought  I  knew  their  voices, 
Their  greetings  to  me  were  the  choicest, 

I  made  a  start ; 

Hut  they,  arrayed  in  shining  gold, 
Appeared  as  strangers  in  the  fold, 

I  knew  them  not. 

And  when  they  saw  me  puzzled  stand, 
The  mighty  throng  did  clap  their  hands, 

Saying  "welcome." 
And  all  the  mystery  passed  away, 
The  band  cried  out ' '  you're  here  to  stay, 

This  is  hearen !" 


CLASS   VALEDICTORIAN.  133 

I  found  that  time  had  gone  its  trip, 
Eternity  had  fixed  its  grip 

On  human  hearts; 
The  rich  and  poor  together  stood, 
Upon  one  solid  brotherhood — 

Never  to  part. 

And  some  one  said  from  out  the  throng, 
"Are    all    here    who     have    conquered 
wrong?" 

He  was  a  seer ; 

And  voices  from  all  generations, 
Sent  forth  in  loudest  exclamation: 

"  We  are  all  here." 
An  angel  cried  "Time  why  depart?" 
And  Time  replied  with  cheerful  heart, 

I  used  to  be ; 

But  God,  the  maker  of  mankind, 
Said  some  day  I  should  be  defined 

"Eternity." 

Class  Valedictorian. 
To  A.  R. 

The  struggles  you  have  made  in  school, 
Today  are  crowned  with  honor; 
You  st.-iiid  now  in  a  vestibule, 
That  causes  you  to  ponder. 


134  CLASS  VALEDICTORIAN. 

School  days  and  childhood  days  must  end, 
And  life's  tempestuous  storms; 
From  every  part  are  coining  in, 
Be  firm  !   Be  true!   Be  calm  ! 

In  conversation  once  you  said 

The  highest  human  standing 

Would  be  your  goal.      And  you'd  be  led 

By  all  your  rights  demanding. 

No  matter  what  the  world  may  say, 
Adopt  this  as  an  omen — 
That  you  will  go  the  right  of  way, 
And  make  yourself  a  woman. 

tt 

A  gentle  voice  is  calling  thee, 

The  future  calls  for  aid; 

And  those  stern  ones  in  death  made  free, 

Tell  you  the  price  they  paid. 

Stand  forth  for  God  arid  liberty. 
Stand  forth  for  human  rights; 
In  one  strong  effort,  worthy  thee, 
Soul  stenciled,  be  a  light. 

Enter  the  field  of  life  to  do. 

Not  just  to  work  for  gain  ; 

For  such  mottoes  make  men  untrue, 

Narrowing1  the  heart  and  brain. 


CLASS  VALEDICTORIAN.  135 

Enter  not  in  si  feverish  strife, 
Nor  in 'a  giddy  ing  whirl, 
For  these  dry  the  fountain  of  life, 
And  gulfs  the  soul  in  a  swirl. 

Enter  not  in  a  dull  routine, 
He  who  was  meant  to  be  king, 
Thus  will  he  made  a  dull  machine, 
Grinding  down  to  a  thing. 

Your  classmates  have  their  eyes  on  you, 
Your  kindred  watch  your  motion, 
Your  friends  have  all  your  acts  in  view, 
Your  ship  is  on  the  ocean. 

And  world-wide  Christendom  at  large, 
Stands  waiting  for  your  action ; 
And  God,  who  shaped  your  fleeting  barge, 
Has  with  you  a  transaction. 

Thus  environed  move  forward  brave, 
Surmount  all  opposition, 
And  on  this  restless  human  wave, 
Make  better  man's  condition. 

Go  forth,  thou  leader  of  the  class, 
With  brain  ahead  of  brawn; 
Strive  e'er  to  gain  the  foremost  place, 
Let  no  man  take  thv  crown. 


136  CLASS   VALEDICTORIAN. 

As  you  move  off  into  life's  sea, 
With  skill  to  use  the  pen ; 
Be  thou  a  messenger  of  peace, 
A  beacon  light  to  men. 

Press  on,  you  have  the  class's  hope, 
Be  brave  and  watch  your  course ; 
Success  is  on  ahead  and  you 
Shall  gain  the  wished  for  shores. 

Should  I  fail,  not  skilled  in  writing, 
Best  adrise  here  to  produce ; 
From  the  world's  great  pictures  view  it, 
Put  it  to  the  best  of  use. 


PART  II. 

Children's  Corner. 


138  CHILDREN^  CORNER. 


Children's  Corner. 

••  Little  Children  Love  One  Another."     liil-le. 

I  wish  that  I  had  the  power 
To  dedicate  this  chapter, 

There's  not  a  single  hour, 
My  soul  it  don't  enrapture. 

*  *  * 

I  wish  I  knew  just  what  to  say, 

To  introduce  this  part; 
Its  on  my  mind  both  night  and  day, 

It  penetrates  my  heart. 

*  #  # 

I  wish  I  had  the  children  here, 
Well,  then  I  couldn't  write; 

My  mind  would  be  in  such  a  cheer, 
My  heart  in  such  a  flight — 

That  I  would  not  believe  my  eyes, 

That  I  was  not  in  Paradise. 


CHILDKEWS  KISSES.  180 

Children's  Kisses. 

1  John,  3:7. 
Sometimes  we  kiss  for  passion's  sake, 

Sometimes  we  kiss  through  love; 
Sometimes  we  kiss  and  make  mistakes, 

Our  kisses  should  be  gloved. 
We  never  know  when  lips  impart, 

If  it  is  false  or  true; 
But  if  its  from  the  children's  heart, 

Just  rest  assured  its  pure. 
We  ne'er  have  thoughts  unsatisfied, 

Which  children's  kisses  bring; 
No  tearful  eyes  for  hope  denied, 

Nor  taste  of  bitter  things. 
We  ne'er  have  sense  of  fallen  pride, 

No  reason  for  resentment; 
No  thoughts  of  wicked  Lethe's  tide, 

The  child's  kiss  brings  contentment. 
The  hope  of  endless  better  things, 

The  kiss  of  children  wakes, 
And  stirs  our  hearts,  till  conscience  sings 

And  hearts  with  gladness  break. 
If  all  the  kisses  on  the  earth, 

Were  pure  as  little  children's, 
And  I  could  get  my  conscience's  worth, 

Mv  kisses  would  be  millions. 


THE  SINGING  OF  BIRDS.  141 

"  The  Time  of  the  Singing  of  Birds 
is  Come." 

Solomon's  Song,  2:12. 

I  sought  the  sanctum  of  a  bird, 

I  wanted  information ; 
I  simply  asked  for  just  one  word, 

To  help  in  dedication. 

Chirped  the  birdie,  "Its  an  honor, 

If  it  is  for  the  children; 
For  their  holy,  sacred  corner, 

I'll  give  you  half  a  million." 

"Little  sisters,  little  brothers, 

I've  a  message  from  above; 
Told  to  me  to  tell  to  others, 

Its  a  heart  brim  full  of  love." 

"While  time  is  fresh  and  hope  is  new, 
While  youth  is  lingering  nigh, 

Keep  noble  things  within  thy  view, 
Look  up  toward  the  sky." 

"I  often  think  how  the  angels 
Arc  near  us  both  night  and  day, 

Let  us  prevent  evil  passions, 
From  driving  them  far  away." 


142  HEART  THIEVES. 

"Just  like  dear,  good  little  children, 
Let's  try  to  obedient  stay, 

Of  the  sins  and  strifes  of  this  world, 
And  we'll  hear  what  angels  say." 


Heart  Thieves. 

I  John,  3:18. 

There  is  a  band  of  little  thieves, 

That  often  'round  me  dart, 
And  like  the  wind  that  takes  the  leaves, 

They  steal  away  my  heart. 

Sometimes  they  catch  me  unawares, 

And  e'er  I  get  my  breath, 
The  heart  is  gone,  I  know  not  where, 

But  still  I'm  not  bereft. 

Sometimes  they  come  when  both  my  eyes, 
Are  fixed  upon  them  straight, 

And  all  at  once  to  my  surprise, 
The  precious  heart  they  take. 

Sometimes  they  come  in  regiments, 

By  tens,  by  fives,  by  twos. 
And  sometimes  even  only  one, 

But  yet  the  heart  is  due. 


HEART  THIS  VES.  143 

No  matter  when  or  how  they  come, 
Though  I  know  they  :ire  thieves. 

The  heart's  door  is  always  open, 
And  gladly  does  receive. 

And  if  they  fail  to  steal  my  heart, 

The  heart  is  sadly  grieved ; 
And  nothing  sare  those  little  rogues, 

Such  sadness  can  relieve. 

Sometimes  at  home,  sometimes  at  school, 

Sometimes  upon  the  street; 
No  matter  where,  it  is  the  rule, 

The  heart  gives  them  a  greet. 

Sometimes  it  catches  one  of  them, 

And  when  its  not  amiss, 
The  heart  turns  thief  itself — what  then? 

It  quickly  steals  a  kiss. 

And  when  the  heart  is  so  bereft, 

O'er  wicked  ways  of  men, 
It  receires  new  strength  from  the  thought 

"These  little  ones  don't  sin." 

And  all  the  influence  that  I  have, 
Which  to  these  thieves  is  given, 

Is  pointing  out  the  way  that  leads 
Their  little  souls  to  heaven. 


!44  HEART  THIEVES. 

They  take  the  heart  at  early  dawn 

Way  off  to  Paradise, 
And  show  it  to  the  blood-bought  throne, 

Around  the  living  Christ. 

They  take  the  heart  at  sultry  noon, 

Into  a  cooling  breeze, 
Where  all  of  life's  hardships  make  room 

For  what  we  call  "heartsease," 

They  take  the  heart  at  eventide, 

When  daily  toil  is  ended ; 
They  take  it  where  the  stars  abide 

And  have  its  tissues  mended. 

And  when  the  heart  lays  down  to  sleep, 

While  in  a  pensive  dream, 
These  little  thieves  around  it  creep, 

And  makes  the  rest  serene. 

They  take  the  heart  at  dark  midnight, 

And  wander  far  away, 
Into  the  land  of  pure  delight. 

Where  midnight  is  as  day. 

My  friends,  I  guess  you  know  by  now, 
Who  these  thieves  are  in  part ; 

The  Savior  loves  the  little  rogues, 
The  children  steal  my  heart. 


God  Sees. 

When  I  rise  at  early  morn, 
Need  I  fear  of  any  harm — 
God  sees. 

When  I  run  about  and  play, 
If  I  'tempt  to  go  astray — 
God  sees. 

When  my  mama  whispers  low, 
"Baby  you  do  so  and  so" — 
God  sees. 

If  I  disobey  her  rule, 
Or  if  I  am  rude  at  school — 
God  sees. 

If  I  do  the  thing  that's  right, 
Whether  it  be  day  or  night- 
God  sees. 

If  I  do  a  thing  that's  wrong. 
Even  though  I  hide  it  long— 

God  sees. 

When  I'm  through  with  all  the  day 
And  I  kneel  at  night  to  pray— 

(iod 


10 


146  CHILDREN  AND  MOTHER. 

After  I  am  gone  to  bed, 

If  I  cover  up  my  head — 

God  sees. 

Even  when  I'm  sound  asleep, 
While  the  angels  'round  me  creep- 
God  sees. 

So  you  see  I  never  fear, 
God's  protection's  ever  near — 
God  sees. 


Children  and  Mother. 

I  John,   1:4. 

Isn't  it  noble  children  dear, 

To  have  a  mother's  voice  to  hear, 

A  mother  to  honor  and  to  love, 

And  watch  that  you  the  right  way  rove? 

Once  'pon  a  time,  I  was  a  child, 

And  I  enjoyed  a  mother's  smile, 

Since  she's  gone  to  a  happy  home. 

I  have  felt  at  times  all  alone, 

But  your  influence  now  I  feel 

Gently  across  my  senses  steal, 

And  undefined,  resistless  spells, 

Brinir  to  me  thoughts  I  cannot  tell. 


CHILDREN  AND  MOTHER.  147 

I  feel  her  breath  upon  my  cheek, 
And  from  your  letters  hear  her  speak. 
Seraphic  sounds,  more  sweetly  dear, 
Than  when  from  her  they  met  my  ear. 
Dreams  of  you,  dear  children,  keep 
Your  vigils  'round  me  while  I  sleep, 
And  wiping  off  the  sorrowing  tears, 
Bring  back  the  thoughts  of  other  years. 
Bright  are  the  joys  your  spells  create, 
They  place  our  minds  in  happy  state, 
For  music's  charm  is  weak  and  faint, 
To  that  which  children's  love  can  paint. 
But  now  I  will  not  take  your  time, 
For  thou  art  mine,  and  mine  are  thine; 
Thine  by  creation's  mystic  skill, 
Which  formed  and  doth  sustain  us  still, 
Thine  by  the  more  endearing  love, 
Which  sent  a  Savior  from  above, 
Our  souls  to  save,  our  lives  to  bless 
With  hopes  of  untold  happiness. 


148  .s-.-LV'/M   r/,.irs. 

Santa  Clans  011  N<>\v  Years  Eve. 


Il  serins  to  me  ihsit  all  <  f  ximis  had  none, 
And  the  new  year  would  l>e  in  the  coining  morn. 
And  it  seems  to  me  'twa*  Santa  Clans  that  said: 


X.I.V7M  f  LAI'S.  14» 

»%  1  know  that  the  children  are  safely  in  bed, 
I'll  just  leave  my  reindeer  and  slily  steal  out, 
And  taken  good  peep  at  the  gifts  strewn  about." 
Thetirst  place  he  went  to  dwelt  six  reckless  bojs, 
And  in  a  sad  plight  did  he  find  all  their  toys, 
The  drums,  it  was  awful,  each  one  of  the  six. 
Was  riddled  with  holes —there  was  not  a  drum 

stick, 

A  dog  with  his  tail  gone,  a  horse  with  no  head, 
A  wagon  wheel  tied  to  the  wagon  with  thread, 
And  Santa  (Maus.  you  know  he  felt  awful  bad, 
He  stood  there  and  looked  disappointedand  sad. 
And  then  Santa  went  where  dwelt  three  tiny 

girls. 
All  sweet    little   maidens,    with  eute  dangling 

curls, 
lie  <a*d :    "They're  not  lx>vs  with  sm-h  rough, 

careless  wavs, 

IMM-  girls  can  be  happy  in  much  quieter  plays." 
Mut  i)  he  xva*  shock<»d  when  he  entered  in 

4  here, 

A  doll  with  l>oth  legs  off  hay  -under  the  chair. 
A  little  bird,  eyckss,  with  feathers  pulled  out , 
Reposed  on  n  bed  with  its  tongue  it)  ;i  pout. 
The  tea  sets  so  scattered  that  Santa  (Maus  said: 
-•  J  fee-l  ve4^v  sick — J'll  go  home  .and  Jo 


150  SANTA  CLAU8. 

But  some  one  then  asked  him  to  sit  in  a  chair, 
And  things  were  explained  to  him  while  he  was 

there. 
They  told  him  that  toys  wrecked  and  broken 

but  rise 

To  take  on  new  value  in  little  folk's  eyes, 
Those  drums — 'twas  a  pity — it  can't  be  denied, 
The  boys  longed  to  see  all  the  noises  inside; 
The  boys  found  out  that  they  were  hollow,  no 

doubt, 

We  all  pay  big  prices  some  things  to  find  out, 
So,  Santa,  don't  plan  any  vengeance  next  year, 
These  toys,  worn  and  broken,  are  none  the  less 

dear, 

And  Santa,  all  children  are  not  that  way, 
For  some  have  their  toys  on  the  next  xinas  day. 
Then  Santa   said:    "Yes,   I'd   forgot   childish 

days, 
I  now  feel  hop'd  up,  you've  explained  childish 

plays." 
Then  Santa  Claus  was  asked  to  give  them  a 

speech , 
And  this  is  the  way  that  the  old  man  did  preach. 


RANT  A  OLAL'S.  151 

"We  can  hear   the  muffled  tread  of  noiseless 

years, 
And  they  bear  the  stream  of   both  our  smiles 

and  tears, 
They  are  loaded  down  with  hopes  and  dreams 

sublime, 

As  they  come  stealing  up  the  scope  of  time, 
We  are  near  the  threshold  of  the  open  door, 
We  are  treading  where  we' ye  never  trod  before 
And  our  days  are  on  a  loom  and  their  chimes, 
And  their  warp  and  woof  are  past  and    future 

times. 

VN'e  are  near  where  the  old  year  is  at  an  end, 
And  we  know  that  the  new  will  soon  begin. 
The  year  that  is  leaving  may  be  blotted, 
But  the  new  one  is  clear,  its  page  unspotted. 
Let  us  make  each  day  a  record  page  clear, 
Then  we'll  have  a  clean  volume  for  the  year. 
Let  us  grasp  now  the  key  of  inspiration, 
And  wind  our  lives  with  new  determination. 
That  through  the  year  now  coming  clear  and 

bright, 

We'll  trust  in  God  and  advocate  for  right." 
Then  Santa  Claus,  he  nicely  bowed  his  head, 
And  said  the  thought  of  speaking  he  did  dread. 


.1  CHAT  \\'TTtt  THE  BOYS. 

A  Chat  With  the  Boy*, 

I've  been  a  )>oy  myself, 

And  with  hoys  I  play, 
But  I'm  for  solemn  chal 

With  the  hoys  today. 

You  are  just  in  prime,  boys, 

Life  is  on  ahead. 
Its  responsibilities 

Never  learn  to  dread. 

Never  look  behind,  hoys. 

Up  ami  on'*  the  way  ? 
Time  enough  to  look  hack 

On  »ome  future  day. 
Though  the  way  he  long,  boys. 

Fight  it  with  a  will: 
Never  stop  to  look  behind 

Wh«>  diml>ing  «p  a  hill. 
First  be  sure-  you're  right.  boys', 

Tbm  wilh  courage  .-^trfuiff 
Stmpywer  (leterminsptJons- 

And  move  riirht  along. 
You  :tre  iw>t  .dwa?s  ftmy*.. 

SMIIW^  day  yon' II  b<^  men. 
Bat  1 1 WAV  is  the  time,  boys- 

F«r  voa  to 


//A*  KXnWKTII  -I.V/>  1.0V KTII    VnC 

When  you're  near  the  top,  boys. 

Of  the  rugged  Way, 
Do  not  stop  to  look  around. 

But  climb,  climb  away. 

Shoot  above  the  crowd,  boys. 

Brace  yourself  and  go. 
When  you  meet  obstacles 

Strike  them  with  a  blow. 

Kuccess  is  at  the  top,  boys* 

Waiting  there  Until 
Brain,  and  pluck,  and  self  respect* 

Have  mounted  Up  the  hill, 


ll<»  KnOttVtli  and  Lovetli  You/ 

Can  you  count  the  stars  that  glimmer1 

lu  the  axure  of  the  sky? 

Do  you  know  how  many  cloudlet* 

O'er  the  world  go  fleeting  by  V 

1  i«"l.  the  Lord,  has  each  one 

Not  a  star  or  cloud  *o  siual) 

But  His  \ratchf ill  eye  has  noted, 

Ootl,  tlfe  Fatlier,  Uiunvs  tlx>n>  all 


154  INDUSTRY  IN  CHILDREN. 

Do  you  know  how  many  children 
From  bright  morn  to  close  of  day, 
Free  from  sorrow,  toil  and  trouble. 
Merry  hearted,  laugh  and  play? 
God  in  heaven  knows  and  loves  them, 
Cares  for  all  they  say  or  do- 
Guards  them  in  his  tender  keeping 
And  he  knows  and  loveth  vou. 


Industry  in  Children. 

Proverb    22:6. 

There's  enough,  dear  children, 

To  do  in  the  house, 
To  keep  you  as  busy 
As  a  little  mouse. 

There's  enough,  dear  children, 

To  do  all  about, 
And  if  you  will  try,  you  will 

Soon  find  it  out. 

There's  enough,  dear  children, 

To  do  anywhere, 
So  hurry  around  and 

Do  your  full  share. 


INDUSTRY  IN  CHILDREN.  158 

And  children,  whatever  you 

Do,  do  it  well, 
People  always,  in  looking  it 

Over,  can  tell. 

If  mama  and  papa  desire 

You  should  work, 
Go  at  it  cheerfully,  don't 

Grow  up  a  shirk. 

When  you  are  out  with  your 

Playmates  at  play, 
Make  it  as  merry  as 

Bird  songs  in  May. 

And  when  you  grow  up  to  be 

Women  and  men, 
You'll  know  how  to  overcome 

Kvil  and  sin. 

The  future,  the  future  just 

Over  the  way, 
Is  patiently  looking  for 

A  better  day. 

Its  hanging,  dear  children, 

Upon  your  hand, 
And  i*  ready  to  march 

At  vour  com.nand. 


<*><•  r.ir.r/'/o.V'x  i-:\in  \<;, 


Therefore  you  are  soldiers, 
Captains  and  guards. 

Lend  your  playmates  and  he 
Led  bv  A  our  God. 


Vacation's  Ending* 
I  John,  5:21. 

t)ear  children,  the  hour  is  near, 
Look  'round  in  every  nook, 

And  get  your  shite  and  pencil, 
And  find  that  absent  book. 

The  summer's  sun  is  sinking 
The  nights  are  getting  cool, 

Vacation's  disappearing, 
It's  almost  time  for  school. 

A  few  more  days,  then  Monday, 
You'll  hear  the  ringing  bells, 

Then  you  will  all  be  coming 
Vacation  news  to  telK 

Vou  have  had  lots  of  play  time, 

Lots  of  recreation^ 
Take  hold  of  your  studies  no\\' 

With  new  determination* 


l.|r.l77o.V>   KMUMi. 

It's  very  grand,  dear  children, 
Tli sit  you  can  go  to  school. 

Study  well  each  lesson  and 
Obey  your  teacher's  rule. 

A  dear  little  girl  is  she, 

Who  likes  to  go  to  school; 

A  very  naughty  boy  is  he. 
Who  daily  breaks  the  rule. 

You'll  have  by  day  and  by  night. 

Mania  and  teaeher  sav: 
"He  good  my  child,  do  things  right, 

And  thorough  be  always.." 

These  words  on  my  ear  doth  fall, 
And  these  words  I  must  tell : 

44  Whatever  is  done  at  all, 
Is  worth  the  doing  well." 

Love  your  mother  and  your  teacher, 
Love  your  instruction  too, 

Love  your  (Jod  who  rules  above, 
And  to  yourself  be  true. 


lf»8  TELEPHONE  TO  HE  A  YEN. 

Telephone  to  Heaven. 

A  little  child  with  her  aunty  came 

Into  a  certain  store, 
But  the  merchant  was  busy  waiting 

On  those  who  came  before ; 
The  child  asked  many  questions  and  her 

Aunty  would  reply : 
"  That's  so  and  so.     You  must  be  quiet," 

And  then  she'd  give  a  sigh. 

"Well,  aunty,  wat  is  dat  nittle  box  wid 

All  dem  strings  tummin  down?" 
"  Why,  baby,  that's  a  telephone  where  they 

Talk  all  over  town." 
"  I  want  to  talk  dat  telephone."      "No 

Darling,  not  today." 
"Well,  net  dat  man  turn  talk  for  me 

I  tell  him  wat  to  say." 

The  merchant  overheard  all  this  and 

With  a  pleasant  smile, 
He  thought  within  himself  what  he 

Would  say  to  please  the  child. 
And  the  child  had  concentrated 

All  its  thoughts  upon  the  'phone, 
'Till  the  merchant  and  the  woman 

And  the  child  were  all  alone. 


TELEPHONE  TO  HEAVKN.  159 

"Now  I  can  wait  on  baby,"  the 

Smiling  merchant  said, 
As  he  stooped  and  softly  toyed  with 

The  curly  little  head. 
"I  want  oo  to  tall  up  mama,"  came 

The  answer  full  and  free, 
"  Wif  zo  telephone  and  ast  her  when 

She's  tummin  back  to  me." 

"Tell  her  I  so  lonesome  'at  I  don't  know 

What  to  do, 
And  papa  cries  so  much  I  dess  he  must 

Be  lonesome  too. 
Tell  her  to  turn  dis  eve'ing,  tauseat  night 

I  dit  so  fraid, 
Wif  no  mama  here  to  take  me  when  the 

Night  dins  to  fade. 


r-1 


And  ebry  day  I  want  her,  for  my 

Dolly's  dot  so  tored, 
From  the  awful  punchen  buddy  give  it 

Wif  his  little  sword, 
Arid  aint  no  body  to  fix  it  since 

Mama  went  away, 
And  poor  little  lonesome  kittie's  ditten 

Thinner  every  day." 


K  XI 'K  LSI*  HI. 

*•  Succt  child."  the  merchant  murmured  us 

He  touched  its  anxious  brow. 
There's  no  telephone  connection  where 

Your  mama's  living  now." 
"  Aint  no  telephone  in  hearen?''  and 

Tears  came  to  her  eyes, 
"I  fought  dat  God  had  everthing  wif 

Him  up  in  the  skies." 

The  woman  with  a  heavy  sigh,  and 

Child  walked  out  the  door, 
And  the  merchant  he  was  puzzled  as 

He'd  never  been  before. 
And  he  said,  I'll  ever  strive  to  make 

Myself  a  telephone, 
Through  which  the  little  children  can 

All  "  know  as  thev  are  known.' 


Excelsior. 

(To  the  memory  of  Alma,  a  little  niece,  born    Septeml  er 
12th,  1888,  died  May  80th,  1891.     An  angel.) 

Rev.  21:11.     19:1. 

'Twas  in  the  bleak  September, 

The  flowers  were  gone ; 
AVhen  our  loving  flower, 

Dear  Alma  was  born. 


11 


EXCELSIOK. 

The  flowers  came  and  went, 
And  came  and  left  once  more; 

But  when  they  came  again, 
Alma  thought  she'd  go. 

I  asked  myself  the  question, 
*'  Why  take  one  so  dear?" 

Spoke  my  heart  full  sadly, 
"The  answer  is  not  here." 

(iod  hath  his  mysteries, 
Ways  that  we  cannot  tell ; 

He  hides  them  deep  like  a  sleep, 
Of  them  he  loves  so  well. 

She  had  played,  and  needed 

A  little  wayside  rest; 
(1ould  she  have  found  a  better  place 

Than  her  dear  Savior's  breast? 

Her  earthly  mission  was  love 

To  and  from  ev'ry  one, 
She's  gone  to  be  rewarded, 

In  lands  beyond  the  sun. 

Sleep  on,  precious  Alma, 

Take  your  eternal  rest, 
Mama  and  papa're  coming 

To  take  you  to  their  breast. 


162  WHERE  ARE  THE  BOYS? 

Weep  not  beloved  parents, 
The  Lord,  He  knoweth  best, 

Your  child's  not  dead  but  sleeping 
In  God's  angelic  nest. 

She  was  radiant  in  beauty, 
Perfect,  glorious,  bright, 

God  wanted  her  for  a  setting 
In  His  crown  of  light. 

When  the  dead  now  sleep  in  Jesus, 
Rise  in  forms  that  are  fair, 

Then  shall  we  meet  our  jewel, 
Our  treasure  rich  and  rare. 

Our  diamond,  sapphire,  our  ruby, 
Our  dear  little  opal  of  love, 

Our  pearl,  most  precious  jewel, 
We'll  meet  her  in  heaven  above. 


Where  are  the  Boys. 

A  question  I  would  like  to  ask, 
To  answer  it  may  be  a  task. 
But  the  thought  cannot  be  masked, 
Where  are  the  bovs? 


WHERE  ARK  THE  HOYS*  163 

Congregations'  service  of  song, 
Thou  who  workest  against  all  wrong, 
Canst  thou  help  us  h'nd  the  throng? 
Where  the  boys  are? 

Young  People's  Club  at  Baptist  church, 
Thou  who  for  the  boys  doeth  much, 
Canst  thou  answer  for  us  on  such? 
Where  are  the  boys? 

Epworth  League  at  Wesley  chapel, 
Thou  who  for  the  boys  doth  battle, 
Canst  thou  just  one  answer  grapple  ? 
Where  are  the  boys? 

These  reply  to  us  in  sadness, 
We  throw  out  our  wings  in  gladness, 
But  the  boys  go  by  in  sadness, 
No  boys  are  here. 

Pastors,  while  at  morning  service, 
Telling  men  of  God's  own  mercies, 
Baffling  all  these  earthly  curses, 
Where  are  the  boys? 

Pastors  reply  with  .saddened  heart, 
The  true  answer  we  cannot  start, 
When  the  truth  we  try  to  impart, 
No  boys  are  there. 


164  WHERE  ARE  THE  BOYS? 

Mothers !  thou  who  hast  all  power, 
To  begin  these  human  towers, 
Canst  thou  tell  at  this  late  hour, 
Where  the  boys  are? 

Mothers  with  the  fashions  and  styles, 
Have  not  time  to  lose  with  the  child, 
Hence  the  answer  comes  with  a  smile, 
The  boy's  all  right. 

At  half  past  nine  o'clock  at  night, 
Up  and  down  the  streets  in  a  flight, 
Some  at  play  and  others  in  lights, 
There  are  the  boys. 

On  the  corners  they  congregate. 
In  wicked  oaths  they  conversate, 
With  a  cigarette  puff  they  state, 
We  are  not  boys. 

Thus  they  are  moving  down  life's  stream, 
Grasping  all  things  low  and  mean, 
Soon  we  will  hear  a  mother  scream 
Where  is  my  boy? 

This  is  the  way  they  get  their  start, 
The  county  farms  will  get  their  part, 
Then  we  hear  mother's  broken  heart. 
Where  is  my  bov? 


WIIKHK  ARK  THE  BOYS?  165 

Then  they  wish  time  in  its  flight 
Could  make  him  a  child  for  one  night, 
O!  on  what  a  different  plight, 
They'd  start  their  boy. 

Too  late,  too  late,  will  come  the  cry, 
Neglected  days  have  hastened  by. 
Hence   we    will    hear    both    sobs    and 

sighs — 

Where  is  my  boy? 

In  the  year  of  nineteen  ten, 
There'll  be  a  mighty  call  for  men, 
What  can  we  give  as    answer  then? 
Where  were  the  boys? 

The  nation's  cancer  makes  a  dust, 
And  moral  virtue  calls  out  thus, 
Mothers,  thou  who  hast  all  the  trust, 
Where  are  the  boys? 

Mothers!  You  have  power  to  save, 
Down  life's  long  stream  you  start  the 

wave, 
Mothers !  keep  not  our  minds  enslaved. 

Where  are  the  boys? 


106  CHILDREN'S  DAY. 

Children's  Day. 

1  John, 4:  4. 

Children,  when  you  read  that  sweet  story  of  old, 
When  Jesus  was  here  among  men, 

How  he  called  little  children  as  lambs  to  his  fold, 
Wouldn't  vou liked  to  have  been  with  him 

•/ 

then? 

Though  you  could  not  see  His  kind  look  when 
he  spoke, 

You  can  only  read  the  story 
You  are  greater  today  while  under  his  yoke, 

Than  all  of  Solomon's  glory. 

Though  before  our  time  death  frost  came  to  lie 
Upon  his  warm  and  mighty  heart, 

And  it  quenched  His  bold  and  tender  eye, 
His  spirit  did  not  all  depart. 

That  spirit  now  from  thousands  of  pens, 

Is  thrown  upon  the  lucid  page, 
It's  moving,  it  shakes  the  heart  of  men, 

In  this  golden,  yet  sinful  age. 

It's  showing  the  children  how  to  go, 

To  witness  a  part  of  His  love, 
And  if  we  will  seek  Him  here  below, 

We  will  see  Him  and  hear  Him  above. 


CHILDREN'S  DAY.  167 

He's  gone  away,  only  to  prepare, 
For  those  whose  sins  are  forgiven, 

And  many  children  have  gathered  there, 
For  such  is  the  kingdom  of  Heaven. 


o 


Come,  look  in  my  eyes  little  children, 
And  tell  me  through  all  the  long  day, 

Have  you  thought  of  your  God  and  your  Savior, 
Who  keepeth  from  sin  all  your  ways? 

When  you  go  to  rest  little  children, 

Right  over  your  innocent  sleep, 
Unseen  by  your  vision,  His  angels 

Their  watch  through  the  darkness  doth  keep. 

They  hearcth  e'en  the  cry  of  the  sparrows, 
They  caret h  for  great  and  for  small; 

In  life  and  in  death,  little  children, 
Their  love  is  the  truest  of  all. 

Then  we'll  pray  that  the  lore  which  guideth, 
The  lambs  that  they  loreth  so  well, 

May  lead  you  that  in  life's  bright  morning, 
Beside  the  still  waters  you'll  dwell. 

Since  there's  a  world  that's  beyond  the  grare, 
And  children  are  all  hastening  there; 

While  you  arc  in  your  youthful  strength, 
Incline  your  dear  hearts  to  prayer. 


168  CHILDREN'S  DAY. 

Put  your  trust  not  in  this  world,  children, 
Which  has  for  you  thousands  of  charms, 

Though  they  catch  the  fancy  a  moment, 
To  the  soul  they  all  doeth  harm. 

We  are  faced  by  sinful  influences, 

But  our  Savior  was  crucified; 
For  your  sins  and  my  sins  dear  children, 

He  suffered,  He  languished,  He  died. 

But  He  went  and  buried  His  sorrows, 
Knowing  that  we  all  had  our  share; 

And  He  opened  a  crystal  fountain, 
And  bid  children  enter  there. 

You  children  were  made  for  life's  battle, 
And  God's  sword  is  girt  on  your  thigh ; 

And  the  purpose  of  God  is  overthrown, 
If  you  only  linger  and  sigh. 

For  our  lives  are  coinages  of  heaven, 
To  be  spent  in  a  coinage  of  love; 

'Till  all  the  realms  of  earth  below, 
Arc  as  pure  as  the  realms  above. 

We  are  strangers,  we  are  pilgrims, 

But  Christ  our  eternal  brother, 
Whispers  from  out  His  blood-bought  throne, 

"Little  children,  love  one  another.'* 


Til K  sr.]f/'LK  IfKASOX.  109 

I  wish  thnt  your  thoughts  so  heavenly  were, 
And  your  hearts  to  Christ  so  given; 

That  all  our  toils,  our  love,  our  care, 
Might  lead  us  nearer  to  heaven. 

Were  it  in  my  power  dear  children, 

To  set  all  of  sin's  pinions  free; 
Your  paths  should  he  pared  more  smoothly, 

Throughout  time  to  eternity. 

Let  us  all  try  daily  to  forge  a  key, 

To  open  the  gates  of  heaven, 
If  we  make  that  key  the  hearts  of  men, 

The  holt  will  be  backward  driven. 

The  Simple  Reason. 
Ill  John,  1:4. 

The  sweet  month  of   May    was   drawing   to  a 

close. 

The  month  of  hope  and  promise,  of  leaves 
And  sunshine  that  clothes  the  earth 
With  smiles,  but  fills  many  hearts  with  tears, 
By  calling  the  victims  of  consumption  to  its 
(ireen  gloom.     It  was  the  evening  of  the 
Holy  Sabbath.     The  public  worship  was  near 
Over,  and  never  since  has  my  heart  been 
So  deaplv  touched  u-<  by  the  songs  they  sang. 


170  THE  SIMPLE  REASON. 

The  children's  voices  sounded  above  all  others. 
They  were  singing,  sweetly  singing, 
It  was  a  lovely  Sabbath  day, 
And  the  evening  air  was  ringing, 
About  the  little  child,  Angel  May. 
They  sang  of  her  stately  sadness, 
How  'twas  whispered  in  heaven  afar, 
How  she  asked  the  watchman  one  favor. 
To  set  the  beautiful  gates  ajar, 
"Only  a  little,  I  pray  thee, 
Set  the  beautiful  gates  ajar." 
"I  can  hear  my  mother  weeping," 
Said  the  child  in  a  trembling  tone, 
Feeling  that  heaven  she  couldn't  enjoy, 
With  mother  on  earth  alone. 
She  felt  that  when  the  gate  was  closed, 
Her  mother  couldn't  see  her  so  far; 
So  she  cried,  "O  angel  give  me  the  key, 
And  I'll  set  the  gate  ajar, 
Only  a  little  I  pray  thee, 
Set  the  beautiful  gate  ajar." 

The  warden  knew  not  a  mother's  worth, 
Hence  could  not  feel  for  the  child, 
And  prompted  by  heavenly  duty,      v 
He  answered  her  with  a  smile. 


THE  SIMPLE  REASON.  171 

And  when  the  child  impressed  it, 
Speaking  of  mother  afar, 
The  warden  answered  "I  dare  not 
Set  the  beautiful  orates  ajar," 
In  :i  low  calm  way  1  dare  not, 
4 'Set  the  beautiful  gate  ajar." 
Then  up  rose  Mary  the  blessed, 
The  mother  of  the  Savior  of  men, 
Who  knew  the  child's  young  feelings, 
Who  had  motherly  feelings  within, 
She  laid  her  hand  on  the  angel, 
Whose  feelings  were  just  at  par. 
The  warden,  seeing  her  expression, 
Set  the  beautiful  gate  ajar — 
Just  for  the  sake  of  the  mother, 
Set  the  beautiful  gate  ajar. 

Turned  was  the  key  in  the  portal, 
Fell  ringing  the  golden  bar. 
And,  lo,  in  the  little  child's  fingers, 
Stood  the  beautiful  gate  ajar. 

With  exultation  I  was  about  to  rise  when 
A  stir  was  made,  and  a  man  rose  whom 
I  can  never  forget.     He  was  an  old  man 
I'pon  whose  frame  the  years  of  a 
Centurv  had  left  their  traces;    while 


172  THE  STMPLK  REASON, 

As  snow  his  white  heard  hung  upon  his 
Breast;   and  although  the  lower  part  of  his 
Face  was  sunken  by  extreme  age,  his  eyes 
Beamed  with  a  fadeless  benevolence  and  his 
Brow  had  scarcely  a  wrinkle.     They  told  me 
Afterward,  that  he  was  the  most  loved 
Companion  of  Christ  and  in  sweetness  of  tem- 
Per  most  like  the  children. 

Unable  to  support  himself,  he  was  carried 
Forward  in  the  arms  of  his  friends  to  the 
Little  rostrum  at  the  end  of  the  room. 
All  rose  to  greet  him,  and  even  little  children 
Looking  up  into  his  face  with  affectionate 
Joy,  as  he  whispered  "  Ble^s  the  children." 
Having  reached  the  stand,  he  attempted  to 
Speak,  but  failing,  sunk  into  the  arms 
Of  friends. 

Eyes  swam  in  tears, 

Hearts  melted  in  sorrow. 
After  a  little,  he  revived.     They  raised 
Him  up  again.     He  looked  around  like  a 
Father  taking  his  last  farewell,  then 
Stretched  forth  his  hands  above  the  group, 
And,  while  tears  ran  down  his  cheeks, 
He  cried  with  tremulous  voice, 

"Little  children  love  one  another." 


Til K  SIMI'LK  RKAS'tX.  173 

He  could  say  no  more.     It  was  his  last 

Sermon.     He  looked  around  upom  them  again 

With  a  smile  of  divine  sweetness  and 

His  lips  moved,  but  we  heard  nothing.     His 

Eves  fell  upon  me  and  with  a  feeble  gesture 

He  beckoned  me  to  him  and  seemed  to  read 

My  countenance.     "Sir,"  said  I,  "You  and 

The  children  almost  persuadest  me  to 

Be  a  Christian.     You  are  fixing  to 

Leave  me.     The  children  will  be  with  me, 

We  are  to  battle  life  for  each  other.     I 

Pray  thee  leave  me  thy  grace." 

Grasping  my  hand  he  said,  "I  leave 

You  seven  words,  give  them  to  the 

Children,  they  are  Faith,  Hope,  Charity, 

Peace,  Joy,  Truth  :md  Love." 

"Father,"  said  I,  "can't  you  tell  me    what  is 

faith?" 
He  whispered  distinctly— 

"Faith  is  that  which  you  see  descending 
Down  from  the  realms  of  celestial  light, 
Something  that's  on  the  cross  depending 
(iuidiiig  children  through  this  life  aright." 
And  what  is  hope? 

"  Hope  has  a  sight  which  nerves  the  wc.-irv. 
And  all  of  its  brightness  in  luster  shines, 


174  THE  XIMPLK  REASON. 

It  lights  the  path  when  all  life  seems  dreary, 
It  cheers  when  all  our  strength  declines." 

And  what  is  charity? 

' '  Charity  comes  in  and  helps  soothe  the  dying, 
Its  ears  are  open  to  the  orphan's  wail, 
It  hears  the  voice  of  the  homeless  crying, 
It  feeds  the  hungry  and  protects  the  frail." 

And  what  is  peace? 

"Peace  is  a  calm,  meek,  tender  glory, 
That  fills  our  souls  with  the  pride  of  life, 
It  helps  the  youth  and  the  age  when  hoary, 
Itisfree from  passion,  from  war,  and  strife." 

And  what  is  joy? 

Joy  comes  pure  as  a  fragrant  flower, 
Its  blossoms  are  scattered  along  life's*  I  ream, 
It  cheers  the  heart  in  its  youthfu!  hours, 
And  lulls  men's  cares  like  a  merry  dream." 

And  what  is  truth  ? 

"Truth  comes  in  a  majestic  splendor, 
And  its  light  shines  in  all  honest  souls, 
It  makes  men  just,  in  their  nature  tender, 
It  gives  all  strength  to  character  it  holds." 

I  will  not  ask  you  what  is  love,  for  I  beliere 

That  is  a  combination  of  these  six. 

The  mortal  spasm  now  grasped  him.     Once 

More  he  spake,  but  it  was  with  the  energy 


77//-;  >/.!//'/,/•;  A'A'.ISGLV.  175 

Of  strong  health,     "  Even  so,  Lord  Jesus  take 
Me" — he  was  asleep  in  death.     I 
Turned  to  leave  and 

A  poor  wayfaring  man  of  grief 

Was  standing  by  my  side, 

Who  sued  my  conscience  for  relief, 

His  wounded  side  I  eyed. 

He  uttered  not  a  single  word. 
But  showed  his  nail'd  print  hand; 
He  saw  my  heart  was  so  bestir'd, 
He  said  "You  understand." 
He  said  "go  to  some  mountain, 
And  call  the  children  near; 
You  dip  them  in  a  fountain, 
And  teach  their  heart  to  fear." 
He  then  left  me.     I  am  now  a 
Christian.     Children  I  have  many  things  to 
Tell  you,  and  through  grace  I  intend 
To  tell  them  yet. 

A  week  passed  and  one  of  the  blandest 
Mornings  in  June  that  ever  the  sun  rose 
I'pon,  I  visited  his  library  and  found 
On  a  tablet  these  words:    "Jesus  is  very 
Precious  to  my  soul,  my  all  in  all,  and  I 
Kxpect  to  be  saved  by  free  grace  through 
His  atoning  blood.     This  is  my  testimony." 


176  THE  SIMPLE  REASON. 

I  left  the  room  resolving  within 
Myself  to  make  his  testimony  my 
Testimony  and  to 

Love  the  children  just  as  he  did, 
Who  for  love  once  sweetly  pleaded ; 
Trust  and  guide,  and  never  doubt 
Build  a  wall  of  love  about. 

But  I've  always  loved  the  jewels, 
Always  thought  that  it  was  cruel, 
To  efface  their  youthful  beauty 
It  has  been  a  life-time  duty. 

Yes,  I  love  them,  I  remember. 
May  is  not  like  cold  December. 
If  I've  words  of  rage  and  madness, 
Always  check  it  from  their  gladness. 

When  my  heart  is  tilled  with  kindness, 
And  to  evil  shows  its  blindness; 
Then  it's  time  to  turn  my  whole  heart 
Into  the  porte  called  children's  mart. 

When  I'm  thinking  of  my  Savior, 
When  I'm  seeking  good  behavior; 
When  I  look  for  earthly  angels, 
Then  I  with  the  children  mingle. 


• 
THK  SLMI'LK   KKASOX.  HT 

When  the  general  roll  is  thunder'd. 
If  .•ini<iiiLr  the  saints  I'm  number'd, 
I  will  search  that  place  of  honor, 
'Till  I  find  the  children's  corner. 

"And  now  little  children,  abide  in  him; 
that,  when  he  shall  appear,  we  mav  have  con 
fidence,  and  not  be  ashamed  before  him  at  his 
coming." — I  John,  2:2X. 


PART  III. 
Ajax'  Ordeals  on  Lynching. 


180  AJ  AX'  1)  UK  AM. 


Ajax'  Dream. 

Ajax  of  the  Southland 

Was  walking  out  one  day. 
Enraptured  did  his  spirit  seem, 
Inspired  by  some  poetic  theme, 

Or  heavenly  array. 

His  gaze  was  running  forward, 

When  sudden  toward  the  sky, 
A  buzzard  rose  upon  his  wings, 
From  off  a  dark  and  ghastly  thing 
Which  startled  Ajax'  eyes. 

A  hideous  corpse  he  noticed, 

He  shudders,  .standing  there — 
His  spirit  feels  a  sharp  recoil, 
From  that  which  taints  the  air  and  soil 
From  lack  of  burial  care. 

The  lynchers  had  been  there 

And  killed  a  Negro  man: 
They  would  not  let  his  kindred  come, 
Nor  even  friends  his  corpse  entomb. 

Hut  left  it  on  the  sand. 


.1./.-IA"  IHtKAM.  181 

Ho  almost  turns  to  leave  it — 

But  stops  and  turns  again, 
That  carcass  there  was  once  the  home 
Of  some  sad  soul  now  doomed  to  roam 

Perhaps  in  endless  pain. 

And  so  this  trembling  Ajax 

The  duty  does  not  shirk, 
But  with  his  unaccustomed  hands 
Piles  on  the  corpse  the  dirt  and  sand, 

And  it  was  tedious  work. 

When  Ajax'  work  was  o'er 

Fie  said  with  tearful  eyes, 
"This  country,  call'd  the  *  land  of  free,' 
Has  no  protection  here  for  me, 

But  whither  shall  we  fly?" 

He  thought  of  Afric's  jungles, 
Where  his  ancestors  roamed, 
He  thought  of  all  the  foreign  lands, 
\Vh«re  he  thought  man  could  IK*  a  man 
Ami  have  protected  homes, 

A  ship  wa^s  there  in  waiting. 

Her  prows  turned  toward  the  sea. 
So  Ajax  said,  at  break  of  day, 
I'll  take  this  ship  ami  sail  away 
In  search  of  !U>ertv. 


182  AJAX'  DREAM. 

He  wended  his  way  homeward 

His  mind  was  all  af right, 
He  made  a  hasty  trip  to  bed, 
And  tried  to  doze  away  the  dead, 
He  passed  a  restless  night. 

But  while  he  slept  a  spirit, 

Before  him  seemed  to  stand — 
The  soul  whose  body  on  the  beach 
He  covered  from  the  buzzard's  reach, 
Who  spoke  with  warning  hand. 

"Ajax."  said  the  spirit, 

"  Listen  to  a  friend's  command! 
Thou  hast  in  mind  to  sail  the  sea 
In  search  of  free-born  liberty, 
This  is  thy  native  land!" 

So  when  Ajax  awoke — 

He  formed  a  resolution, 
He  said  this  is  my  native  land, 
And  if  I  make  myself  a  man, 

There'll  be  a  revolution. 

And  then  he  closed  by  saying : 
"I  think  I  know  the  sequel, 
I'll  patronize  my  fellow  man, 
And  lend  him  all  the  aid  I  can, 
And  thus  build  up  my  people." 


AJAX'  SECOND  DREAM.  183 

Ajax'  Second  Dream. 

I  dreamed  I  was  with  the  lynchers, 
And  in  their  arms  I  lay. 
Ah  me!  has  the  vision  vanished, 
Have  the  demons  passed  away? 
They  are  like  a  pack  of  hell-hounds, 
They  seek  an  innocent  man, 
And  simply  on  his  color 
He  dies  at  their  command. 

Sing  to  me  songs  of  slavery, 
They  will  cool  me  after  my  sleep, 
And  with  freedom's  odors  fan  me, 
Till  into  my  veins  they  creep, 
For  my  heart  is  hot  and  restless, 
And  all  of  the  lynchers'  crimes — 
The  hundreds  of  hanging  bodies 
Are  dancing  before  my  mind. 

My  soul!  this  lifeless  nature. 
Oppresses  my  brain  and  heart; 
( )h  !   for  a  storm  and  thunder, 
To  sunder  this  world  apart! 
Stop  singing,  please — I  hate  it, 
But  take  up  a  buckle  and  sword, 
And  clash  these  human  demons, 
Till  this  lynching  world  is  stirred. 


AfAX'  SRGOX&  DREAM. 

Now  leave  me,  and  take  from  my  chamber, 

This  wretched  mosquito,  and  tell 

The  people  how  much  he  annoys  me. 

With  his  silly,  tinkling  bells. 

Its  strange,  but  my  nerves  he  vexes, 

A  thing  without  blood  or  brain, 

But  ask  it  first  please  to  help  me 

To  tear  the  lynehers  in  twain. 

I  long  for  the  jungles  of  Africa, 
Among  the  wild  beasts  to  roam, 
Where  the  hissing  of  the  reptiles, 
Will  make  me  feel  at  home; 
In  n  vision  I  was  transported, 
To  Africa  in  a  day, 
And  through  the  jungles  of  memory, 
Loosen 'd  my  fancy  to  play. 

I  wandered  through  the  jungles, 

I  played  with  the  crocodiles. 

And  toyed  the  head  of  the  hissing  asp, 

As  we  often  do  n  child ; 

The  elephant  trum)»eting  start ed, 

When  he  heard  my  footsteps  near, 

The  kangaroo  fled  wildly, 

Crviiiii  in  distressing  fear. 


.-J./.LV   *K<'->\1>  DliK.lM.  18. 

And  I  heard  a  wild  mate  roaring, 
As  the  shadows  of  night  came  on, 
To  snoose  in  the  brush  beside  me, 
And  the  thoughts  of  my  sleep  were  gone. 
Then  I  roused  myself  from  slumber 
And  sprang  to  my  trembling  feet, 
Anxious  for  some  one  to  soothe  me, 
I  wandered  my  mate  to  greet. 

We  grasped  each  other  on  meeting, 

And  rolled  upon  the  sand, 

And  tried  our  best  to  kill  each  other  — 

How  powerful  he  was  and  grand. 

Then  with  all  his  might  he  seized  me, 

With  a  wild,  triumphant  cry, 

That  sounded  like  the  lynchers'  yell. 

And  the  Nero's  wail  and  sih. 


We  grappled  and  worried  together, 
For  we  both  had  rage  that  was  rude, 
And  his  teeth  as  they  sank  into  my  flesh, 
I)rew  forth  the  lyneh-eseaped  blood. 
But  I  had  courage  to  tight  him, 
For  we  were  but  foe  to  foe, 
While  the  lynchers  come  by  hundreds, 
To  defend  we  have  no  show. 


186  AJAX'  Fnroin\ 

Other  wild  beasts  were  vicious, 
The  lion  and  the  grizzly  bear 
Fought  for  me  in  the  moonlight, 
While  I  lay  crouching  there. 
Then  down  to  the  river  we  loitered, 
Where  the  young  fawns  came  to  drink, 
And  my  beast  friends  sprang  upon  them, 
Ere  they  had  time  to  shrink. 

The  wild  beast  in  the  jungles, 
Had  tenderer,  softer  hearts. 
Than  America's  Anglo-Saxon, 
In  civilized  Christian  marts; 
Would  that  I  had  the  power 
To  touch  the  hearts  of  men, 
And  with  the  aid  of  wild  beast 
Heveal  this  wretched  sin. 


Ajax'  Fright. 

There's  a  dreadful  horror  'bout  me, 
That  nothing  drives  away  ; 

It's  with  me  in  my  night  dreams. 
It's  with  me  every  dav. 


AJAX-  Fiuanr.  187 

It  makes  the  night  appear  so  short, 

The  bed  is  hard  and  cold; 
It  makes  the  days  appear  so  long 

To  both  the  young  and  old. 

Must  I  arise  from  out  my  bed, 

And  start  my  daily  work? 
The  lynchers,  just  for  meanness,  will 

My    head  from  body  jerk. 

To  die  like  a  man  by  gun  or  shield, 

Such  a  death  I  do  not  fear ; 
No  other  death  'Id  be  worst  to  feel, 

Than  to  leave  my  loved  ones  here. 

But  fear  of  being  lynched  for  naught 

Makes  all  one's  senses  start; 
To  be  chased  by  hounds  and  hell-hounds 

Draws  pangs  to  bleeding  hearts. 

I  hear  the  hell-hounds  yelping, 
They're  coming  'cross  the  plain ; 

With  bloodshot  eyes  and  gnashing  teeth, 
For  blood  of  a  Negro's  veins. 

I've  never  harmed  a  white  man, 

They  can't  be  after  me; 
But  oh!  when  they're  blood  thirsty, 

Innocence  is  no  plea. 


188 


There's  stirring  in  my  back  yard, 
There's  fumbling  under  my  floor, 

Great  God  they  seem  to  smell  me  ! 
The  Ivnchers  are  at  mv  door! 


Ajax*  Soliloquy. 

Riches,  which  once  I  held  in  light  esteem, 
And  inspired  me — now  I  laugh  to  scorn ; 
And  lust  of  fame  which  was  an  ideal  dream, 
Has  vanished  from  me  with  the  morn. 

When  in  my  solitary  room  I  sit, 
And  try  to  see  where  life  presents  a  bloom  ; 
Not  one  fair  dream  before  my  mind's  eye  flits, 
But  hateful  thoughts  enwrap  my  soul  in  gloom. 

My   heart    aches,    instead   of  night    rest,  HIT 

dreams 

Are  anxious,  that  a  cup  filled  up  with  drugs 
For  me  to  drink,  and  leave  the  world  unseen. 
And  go  and  be  a  feast  to  hungry  bugs. 

Would  I  could  fade,  dissolve,  go  and  forget 
That  I  upon  the  earth  was  ever  known, 
For  all  these  crimes,  the  fever  and  the  fret, 
All  we  can  do  is  heir  each  other  groan. 


.I/.I.V    KIMHlKlf*  s 

There  is  something  painful  :m<i  sad  to  see, 
"r\voul<l  shock  the  red  man  looking  fora  scalp: 
A  human  body  hanging  from  a  tree, 
A  white  man's  victim  that  had   been  entrap' tl. 

I  often  prav,  but  the  only  touching  p raver. 
That  from  my  heart  doth  move  my  lips  for  me, 
Is,  "You  may  have  the  heart  that  now  I  bear. 
Hut  give  my  mind  and  body  liberty." 

<)  spirit,  ()  spirit  of  the  other  land. 
Turn  here  your  voice  and  in  a  whisper  say: 
44  O  Ajaz  !   ()  Ajax  !   come  from  that  stand, 
And  dwell  with  me  in  a  brighter  day." 

I'm  pondVmg,  I'm  wond'ring,  I'm  thinking, 
If  this  world  intends  to  ever  get  right; 
It's  reeling,  it's  shaking,  it's  sinking, 
Let  my  soul  join  the  blue  bird's  flight. 

Ajax*    Kindred's  Soliloquy. 

In  Africa. 

Thelhoughtsof  the  future  doth  pu/xlemy  mind, 
And  O  how  I  shudder  at  flitting  of  time: 
It  seems  that  it's  hast'ning  that  dreadful  day. 
When  no  when-  in  this  dull  earth  I  can  stay. 
The  power?,  of  Kurope  are  taking  my  land. 
And  siftinir  it  out  at  their  own  command. 


190  AJAX'  KINDREDS  SOIJLOQUY. 

They  do  not  attempt  to  civilize  me, 

But  use  all  their  efforts  to  make  me  flee. 

Where  in  this  broad  domain  can  I  fly, 

My  body  to  rest  and  my  mind  satisfy? 

That  land  called  the  Star  Spangled   Banner  of 

free, 
Toward  which  all  the  nations  at  one  time  did 

flee, 

My  countryman  Ajax  who  dwells  over  there, 
Relates  that  which  straightens  my  sun   kinked 

hair, 

He  tells  me  they  lynch,  tar  and  burn  the  Negro, 
And  mangle  them  worse  than  the  cruel  Nero, 
He  tells  me  to  stav    here  and    dodge    the  wild 

tf 

beast, 

It's  easier  than  being  the  lyncher*'  love  feast, 
The  isles  of  the  sea  are  all  filled  up  they  say, 
I  wish  a  ne.w  mountain  would  rise  in  a  day ; 
The  fox  and  the  panther,  the  birds  of  the  air, 
They  all  have  a  home  in  this  world  somewhere, 
The  sun  shines  resplendent  in  its  bright  degree, 
Dame  nature  is  pleasant,  all  happy  but  me, 
I  long  for  the  wings  of  the  blue  bird  of  flight, 
To  flee  from  this  plain  and  in  mid  ocean  light, 
And  there  put  an  end  to  these  heart-bleeding 

sighs, 


A-/ AX'  MO  AT.  Ml-:  AT.  191 

And  banish  the  tears  from   my   long   weeping 

eyes. 

O  God!   is  the  time  ever  coining  again 
When  I  can  .sec  peace  in  this  broad  domain? 
If  not  take  me  now  in  the  palm  of  thy  hand, 
And  fling  me  away   from  this   blood-shedding 

land. 

And  if  I  don't  land  in  thy  mansions  all  fair, 
Just  fling  me  until  I  am  nothing  but  air. 
The  lynchers,  the  lynchers  are   here  by   the 

throng ! 
My  Savior,  my  Savior,  O,  why  was  I  born. 


Ajax'  Monument. 

When  in  the  shadow  of  the  tomb, 

My  heart  shall  rest, 
Please  lay  me  where  spring  flowers  bloom 

On  earth's  jrreen  breast. 


r- 


Please  never  in  vaulted  box  place 

My  lifeless  frame, 
For  it  is  not  the  best  of  grace, 

Yes,  I  am  sane. 


In  some  sweet  village  of  the  dead 

I'd  like  to  sleep, 
Where  flowers  may  deck  my  little  bed, 

Where  angels  creep. 

And  if  the  children  in  their  roam 

Know  not  the  spot; 
Enough  if  but  by  lore  alone, 

I'm  not  forgot. 

But  I'm  a  Negro  and  I  need 

Not  so  lament, 
For  never  did  a  lyncher's  creed 

Say  "  monument." 

My  God,  will  the  time  ever  be, 

When  I  can  have 
Pure  thoughts  without  the  lyn*  JUTS'   glee 

To  make  me  swear? 


Ajax'  Song. 

(Tune:     "  Tenting  en  the  Old  Camp  Ground.") 

We  are  thinking  today  of  the  loved  ones  lost, 
Gone  through  the  lynchers'  hand; 

Of  the  innocent  men  who  have  gone  across 
The  bridge  where  villains  stand. 


AJAX'  SONG.  193 

CHORUS. 

Many  arc  the  hearts  that  are  mourning  today, 
Mourning  for  the  loved  ones  mobbed, 

Many  are  the  eyes  full  of  tears  that  say, 
Why  are  we  left  in  sobs? 

Help  us  to  say,  "Humbly  we  pray, 
Father,  is  it  brighter  ahead?" 

We  are  hoping  today  that  the  Christian  world, 
Will  yet  see  the  matter  straight ; 

And  will  see  that  this  question  is  all  unfurl'd, 
Before  time  replies,  "too  late!" 

CHORUS:     Many  are  the  hearts,  etc. 

We  are  praying  today  to  our  God  on  high, 

To  wrestle  this  lynching  age ; 
To  listen  to  the  widow's  and  orphan's  cry, 

That's  caused  by  this  outrage. 

CHORUS:      Many  are  the  hearts,  etc. 

We  are  weeping  today  but  the  hour  will  come, 

When  the  lynchers  all  shall  see 
That  America  is  the  Negro's  home, 

And  here  he's  bound  to  be. 

CHORUS:      Manv  are  the  hearts,  etc. 


194  AJAX'  MEDITATIONS. 

Ajax*  Meditations. 

If  I  should  die 

Today  or  tomorrow, 

And  my  soul  fly, 

Into  bliss  or  sorrow, 
Would  any  who  never  saw  my  face, 
Know  that  on  this  earth  I  had  filled  a  place? 

If  I  should  sail 

Away  on  some  great  ship, 

And  in  a  gale 

Should  end  my  earthly  trip, 
Would  anyone  while  riding  o'er  the  waves, 
Remember  me  while  in  my  wat'ry  grave? 

If  I  should  stray, 
Way  off  in  the  wild  woods, 
And  be  the  prey 
To  vicious  wild  beasthood, 
Would  future  men  while  lev'  ling  down  the  plain, 
Know  that  I'd  ever  been  in  this  domain? 

If  I,  at  home, 

Were  quietly  sleep  in  bed ; 

And  lynchers  roamed, 

To  tar  arid  burn  my  head, 

They  would  prevent  my  friends  from  burying  me 
Could  future  men  say  that  I  used  to  be  ? 


.17.1  A"  MEDITATION*.  19o 

If  when  I'm  dead, 
The  future  children  come, 
With  joyous  tread 
And  human  beating  drums, 
Will  they  while  either  at  their  work  or  play, 
Remember  that  poor  Ajax  had  a  day? 

Songsters  will  sing, 
While  I  am  dead  and  gone ; 
Their  echo'll  ring, 
And  thrill  the  living  throng, 
Will  any  songs  remind  the  living  men, 
That  poor  Ajax  upon  the  earth  has  been? 

A  cent'ry  hence, 

While  boys  and  girls  in  school, 

Upon  the  bench 

Obey  the  teacher's  rule, 

Will  any  book  show  them  the  deeds  and  acts, 
Of  trembling,  poor,  despis'd,  oppress'd  Ajax? 

God  hold  my  hand, 
And  give  me  power  to  write, 
Give  me  command, 
That  I  may  say  what's  right. 
I'll  write  a  book  before  I  leave  this  land, 
To  show  tho  world  that  Ajax  was  a  man. 


196  A  MOTHER'S  RAGE. 

A  Mother's  Rage. 

Fruits  of  Lynching. 

A  mother  stood  at  the  river  brink 

Holding  in  her  arms  a  dear  child, 
'Twas  all  on  earth  that  the  mother  had, 

And  she  said  with  a  sacred  smile : 
"  Your  father  did  all  a  man  could  do 

To  live  for  you  and  for  me ; 
But  the  wicked  lynchers  murdered  him, 

Irrespective  of  mother's  plea." 

She  says,  "  I  know  whereof  I  speak, 

In  the  sight  of  these  my  own  eyes, 
Your  father  said  in  a  mournful  tone: 

'Dear  wife,  kiss  the  baby  good-bye,' 
And  that  was  the  last  I  heard  of  him ; 

I  knew  not  the  lynchers'  plan. 
The  world  is  witness  to  one  true  fact, 

Thy  father  was  an  honest  man. 

But  honesty  in  this  fast  age, 

In  regards  to  the  dusky  race 
Has  carried  many  'cross  the  dark  stage, 

And  brought  to  the  whites  a  disgrace. 
If  this  mode  of  death  is  continued, 

Why  should  I  leave  you,  my  dear  boy, 
To  have  your  life  blotched  with  such  sights, 

Such  a  life  you  cannot  enjoy  ! 


.1  MoTlIKtfS  KAtiK.  197 

My  child,  I  am  almost  tempted  now 

To  throw  thee  into  this  river, 
And  let  thy  soul  go  wandering  back 

To  Him  who  is  the  great  forgiver. 
For  then  thy  mother  will  be  satisfied 

That  thou  art  in  God's  tender  care, 
For  another  death  like  thy  father's 

Thy  mother,  she  can  never  bear. 

And  then,  my  child  when  you  have  passed 

Beyond  earth's  shadows  and  its  teachings, 
When  Paradise  is  reached  at  last, 

Brought  to  you  by  the  Lord's  entreating, "~ 
When  starry  crowns  shall  deck  your  brow, 

And  white  robes  to  you  be  given, 
My  child,  you  can't  imagine  now, 

How  sweet  'twill  1x3  in  heaven. 

The  "many  mansions"  high  in  air 

Will  glearn  with  more  than  earthly  splendor, 
And  the  shining  angels,  pure  and  fair, 

Will  greet  you  with  a  love  most  tender ; 
Your  head  in  grief  shall  never  bow 

But  rapturous  joy'll  to  you  be  giv«n, 
My  child,  you  can't  imagine  now 

How  sweet  'twill  be  in  heaven. 


19S  AJAX* 

But  oh  ?  my  child  my  heart  repines,  - 

How  horrible  would  be  the  guilt 
When  in  after  years  it  corner  to  mind 

That  your  blood  was  by  mother  spilt 
My  child,  I  cannot  bear  to  think 

Of  throwing  thee  into  the  tide ; 
But  ohr  the  lynchers  !  the  lynchers  I 

The  mother  fainted!  and  died. 


Ajax*    Bashfulness.- 

I  was  once  out  of  social  circles, 
As  bashful  a-s  a  young  man  could  be; 
And  I  wondered  if  all  society 
Could  m-ake  a  socialist  of  me. 

1  wandered  on  in  my  ba&hfuTness, 
Nothing  socially  good  could  I  see  •; 
And  the  thought  filled  my  heart  with  sad 
ness, 
No  socraV  redemption  for  mev 

I  vrent  to  a  tmvn  on  probation, 
And  my  bashf umess^  followed  mer 
And  while  in  deep  meditation, 
A  voice  gently  whispered  to  me*. 


A.TAT 

It  was  the  voice  of  a  social  dub, 
That  was  speaking  so  kindly  to  me^ 
And  I  heard  its  social  improvements 
Saying  tenderly,  *'come  unto  me." 

I  went  to  the  club  very  shyly. 
They  gladly  accepted  of  me, 
But  I  told  them  I  was  so  bashful, 
A  socialist  I  never  could  be. 

And  I  found  that  while  it  was  social, 
Some  other  things  they'd  review; 
There  was  moral's  tie  and  culture's  trend. 
They  ever  had  in  view. 

The  first  time  that  they  called  on  me, 
I  didn't  have  very  much  blood, 
But  all  I  hud  to  my  head  did  flee, 
And  I  felt  like  social  mud. 

And  when  I  got  through  theyallclapMme, 
"*Twas  not  about  what  I  said ; 
But  they  were,  through  sympathy, 
Clapping  the  blood  from  my  head, 

We  next  had  the  social  jubilee, 
And  from  my  heart  I  wondered", 
If  any  girl  there  would  talk  to  me — 
A  simple,  social  blunder. 


200  AJAX  LOOKS  BEYOND. 

And  when  I  came  to  myself  again, 
I  was  drifting  down  the  tide; 
I  was  in  the  boat  for  the  social  port, 
With  a  ladv  on  each  side. 


Ajax  Looks  Beyond. 

I  have  tried  to  be  contented 
In  this  land  of  vale  and  tears, 
When  I  think  how  Christ,  the  Savior, 
Suffered  here  without  a  fear ; 
But  the  way  that  I  am  treated 
In  this  low  slough  of  despond, 
Makes  me  long  to  be  transported 
To  the  calm,  unknown  beyond, 

I  am  longing  for  a  moment 

When  I  can  this  country  leave ,' 

For  some  unknown,  peaceful  city, 

Where  the}r  never  sigh  or  grieve, 

WThere  the  mansions  glow  with  beauty, 

Which  to  mortals  is  unknown ; 

I  am  waiting,  I  am  longing 

In  those  brighter  realms  to  roam. 


AJAX  VOTES  FOR  MCKINLKY.  201 

I  am  longing  for  the  breaking 
Of  the  day  when  I'll  be  free, 
And  can  leave  behind  the  heartaches, 
And  toward  my  Savior  flee; 
When  I  shall  to  lynching  horrors, 
In  this  cold  world  bid  adieu, 
I  am  waiting,  I  am  longing, 
And  my  race  is  waiting  too. 


Ajax  Votes  for  McKinley. 

Ajax  went  out  to  vote 

On  election  day ; 
White  man  was  standing  'round, 

Things  had  gone  his  way. 

Ajax  had  heard  before 
How  the  white  man  done, 

Made  Negroes  vote  with  him 
Or, — he  had  a  gun. 

White  man  said  to  Ajax, 
"Well,  how  do  you  stand?" 

Ajax  said  to  white  man, 
"Straight  republican." 


202          A,/ AX  VOTES  FOK  MfKTNLEY. 

White  man  said  to  Ajax, 
"Leave  the  poles  at  once." 

Ajax  said  to  white  man, 
"You  must  be  a  dunce." 

White  man  said  to  Ajax, 
"You  don't  mean  to  go?" 

Ajax  said  to  white  man, 
"While  I'm  living—No!" 

Ajax  said,  quite  raging, 
"This  thing's  got  to  stop, 

Bossing  Negroes'  voting, 
No  more'll  be  a  sop." 

White  man  saw  that  Ajax 
Was  not  like  the  rest ; 

Could  not  be  bluffed  away 
With  a  little  jest. 

White  man  said  to  Ajax, 
•'  Why  are  you  so  bold?" 

Ajax  said  to  white  man, 
"Mj  rights  to  control." 

White  man  said  to  Ajax, 
"I  don't  mean  to  fight." 

Ajax  said  to  white  man, 
"I'm  for  peace  and  right." 


AJAX  VOTES  FOR  MrKINLKY.          203 

White  man  said  to  Ajax, 

"Drop  your  war-like  game." 

Ajax  said  to  white  man, 
"When  you  do  the  same." 


White  man  said  to  Ajax 
"  What'll  you  do  to  me?" 

Ajax  said  to  white  man, 
"Hit  me  and  you'll  seel' 

White  man  said  to  Ajax, 
"This  will  never  do." 

Ajax  said  to  white  man, 
"  Sir,  the  same  to  you." 

White  man  said  to  Ajax, 
"I'll  the  diet  try." 

Ajax  said  to  white  man, 
"Thank  you,  so  will  I." 

Ajax  showed  the  white  man 
Me  knew  how  to  fight ; 

White  man  showed  to  Ajax 
He  could  treat  him  ri«fht. 


204  AJAX' 

Ajax'  Conclusion. 

My  friends,  our  race  is  ostracised, 
Long  standing  tears  are  in  our  eyes, 
And  we  as  meek  and  humble  doves, 
Endure  it  all  with  smiles  and  love. 
And  those  who  try  to  crush  us  down 
Return  our  smiles  in  hateful  frowns, 
So  we  must  rise  and  strike  a  blow, 
When  e'er  these  demons  block  our  door. 

As  long  as  we  retreat  from  them, 

They'll  use  us  as  their  limber-jim, 

But  if  we  punishments  resist, 

The  white  man'll  know  that  we  exist, 

And  if  we  all  united  stand, 

We  can  our  rights  as  men  demand; 

But  we  must  show  determination, 

Instead  of  meek  disconsolation. 

The  red  man  showed  that  he  would  tight, 
This  country  gave  him  certain  rights, 
They  never  lynch  an  Indian  chief, 
They  know  his  friends  come  to  relief, 
The  foreigner  from  'cross  the  sea, 
Has  all  the  rights  of  liberty, 
Because  if  humans  take  his  scalp, 
His  countrymen  will  raise  a  scrap. 


AJAX*  CONCLUSION.  205 

The  rattlesnake,  the  white  man  dreads, 
And  on  his  body  will  not  tread, 
Because  he  knows  the  rattlesnake, 
If  touched,  will  to'ard  the  toucher  make. 
The  harmless  ant  upon  the  ground, 
Men  trample  on  without  a  frown, 
If  we  resist,  we'll  gain  respect, 
If  we  unite  'twill  take  effect. 

There  must  be  some  blood  shed  by  us, 
When  Southern  brutes  begin  to  fuss, 
Some  Brown  and  Turner' ve  got  to  die, 
To  picture  to  the  demon's  eye 
The  fact  that  we  are  in  this  land 
To  stay,  'till  God  gives  us  command 
To  move  away,  and  until  then, 
We  must  be  recognized  as  men. 

We  made  the  South-land  with  our  toil, 
And  we  intend  to  share  the  spoil, 
But  sometimes  it  seems  just  as  well 
To  have  a  residence  in  hell. 
Poor  men  are  cut  and  burnt  like  fuel, 
The  country  does  not  call  it  cruel. 
Someone  must  rouse  this  base-ball  a«r«-. 
To  overcome  this  black  outrage. 


206  AJAX    IS  CHASTISED. 

Who's  more  fit  to  defend  this  right, 
Than  we  who've  seen  these  wicked  sights? 
Stern  freedom's  voice  bids  us  arise, 
Our  patient  ways  she  does  despise, 
Contentment  makes  real  life  decay. 
Brave  discontent  brings  brighter  day, 
What  we  are  now,  the  past  has  made, 
The  future's  on  our  shoulders  staid. 


Ajax  is  Chastised. 

Ajax,  in  the  stillness  of  the  night, 

Lie  down  and  take  thy  rest ; 
Live  in  the  dreams  of  the  starry  light 

As  the  bird  in  its  nest. 

This  world  is  filled  with  sorrow  and  shame, 

With  sin,  with  tumult  rife; 
But  as  metal  is  fused  by  the  flame, 

So  men  are  made  by  strife. 

Ere  long  from  now,  thy  feet  may  turn 

From  this  distressing  mood ; 
So  lose  the  thought  that  men  are  burned, 

And  help  to  make  life  good. 


A./ A X  AT  THE  CENTENNIAL.  207 

And  Ajax,  though  it  wounds  and  grieves, 
We  grow  strong  by  lees  of  pain, 

So  shelter  your  heart  against  the  thieves, 
And  be  thyself  again. 

You  have  your  life,  why  not  be  glad? 

For  the  gift  of  life  is  good; 
But  the  lessons  of  life  are  sfreat  and  sad 

To  thy  dear  brotherhood. 

So  turn  your  back  on  the  sinful  ways. 

And  blend  the  race  together; 
Let  us  unite  for  a  brighter  day, 

And  help  to  make  life  better. 


Ajax  at  the  Centennial. 

1897- 

Ajax  went  over  to  Nashville, 
To  attend  the  great  centennial ; 
And  a  white  man  asked  him  rashly 
About  the  race  in  general. 

"Ajax,  tell  me  the  whole  se-juel: 
Your  father  was  my  father's  slave, 
And  now  you  stand  as  my  e<jual, 
On  this  educational  wave." 


2C8  AJAX  AT  THE  CENTENNIAL. 

And  Ajax  paused  for  a  moment, 
Slightly  hanging  down  his  head; 
And  then  from  the  depth  of  conscience, 
These  are  the  words  that  he  said : 

"You  know  it  was  sixteen-nineteen, 
When  my  first  African  brother, 
Sailed  over  here  in  a  canteen, 
And  called  America  his  mother. 

He  climbed  up  degradation's  hill, 

Two  hundred  and  fifty  years ; 

And  over  the  Israelitic  rills, 

He  waded  through  heartaches  and  tears 

In  his  efforts  to  leave  degradation, 
He  was  cramped,  doomed  in  a  cell ; 
Dishearten'd,discontent'd,  discourag'd, 
By  a  prejudice  born  in  hell. 

But  through  God's  work,    who    guides 

man's  life, 

The  world's  second  Moses  came; 
And  through  the  sea  of  civil  strife, 
Brought  freedom  instead  of  shame. 

From  there  we  started  out  in  life, 
To  make  a  mark  as  a  race; 
But  someone's  ever  causing  strife, 
Brin<nn<jf  on  us  a  disgrace. 


A.I  A  X  A  T  THE  VENTKNNl  A/..  2<W 

You  take  the  thousand  oppressions, 
That  are  hurled  into  our  face; 
And  change  them  to  progression, 
Then  we  will  be  a  race. 

My  sir,  it  is  a  will-known  fact, 
That  the  Negroes'  aim  is  high, 
And  if  they'll  stop  holding  him  back, 
He'll  reach  them  unless  he  dies. 

He's  in  the  national  government, 
He's  been  a  military  man; 
And  in  these  United  States, 
He's  been  surveyor  of  lands. 

He's  widely  known  in  medicine, 
He's  faced  millions  as  teacher; 
Thundered  his  eloquence  at  the  bar, 
He  can't  be  excelled  as  preacher. 

And  in  hundreds  of  newspapers, 
He  tones  up  ideas  and  thoughts ; 
In  connection  with  his  people, 
To  show  what  they  have  wrought. 

A-  for  a  Southern  laboring  man, 
His  equal  cannot  be  found; 
And  to  find  a  regular  Negro  tramp. 
You  must  search  the  countrv  'round. 


210  A /AX  AT  THE  CENTENNIAL. 

In  scholarship  he's  stood  the  test, 
In  the  institute's  at  home; 
And  'cross  the  sea — without  a  jest, 
His  eloquence  is  known. 

He's  writing  poetry  books  and  prose, 
To  scatter  over  the  land  ; 
To  show  the  depth  from  which  he  'rose, 
The  height  where  now  he  stands. 

A  hundred  thousand  students  now, 
Behind  the  study  desk ; 
Have  fix'd  a  frown  upon  their  brow, 
They  will  not  be  oppressed. 

I  think  I  see  the  coming  time, 
When  this  curs'd  lynching  land; 
Will  see  the  Negro's  worth  sublime, 
And  claim  him    as  a  man. 

And  my  dear  sir,  fifty  years  hence, 
When  your  grandchildren  stand  ; 
Ajax  grandchildren's  recompense, 
Will  show  an  equal  man. 

A  hundred  years  from  now  my  friend, 
Could  you  and  I  peep  back ; 
We  cannot  tell  vour  children  then, 
From  those  of  poor  Ajax. 


.l./.l.V  .l/'/'A'.l/,  TO  AMKIt/CA.  211 

Ajax'  Appeal  to  America. 

My  country,  noble  spectre  of  the  past; 
Along  thy  rivers,  and  within  thy  vales, 
There  breathes  a  deep-toned  voice,  that  tells 

of  days, 

When  thou  wert  called  thecountry  of  the  free — 
Admiredand  frequented;  when  pilgrim 'd hosts 
Trod  thy    sanctomed  shores,  and  music   filled 
The  air  with  freedom.     Broad  hearts  of   men 
Were  thine,  in  bonds  of  union ;    and  around, 
The  voice  of  love  and  happiness  arose. 
Voluptuous     life     enkindled     every    heart — 
But  as  time  moved  on  in  silence, 
A  dreadful  change  took  place, 
The  great  Abe.  Lincoln  wept,  he  saw  the  wreck 
That  slavery  scattered    'round    him — and  he 

mourned 
To  think  that  scenes  so  bright  should  fade    so 

soon. 

Thou  wa^t    a  marvelous    country,  ere  the    star 
That  lit  the  way  to  Bethlehem,    gleamed   the 

east , 

And  heralded  a  Savior — and  perhaps, 
Thy  shores  resounded  with  the  hum  of  men, 
NVlien  Ajax  on  the  Afrie  shores  did  live. 


212  AJAX'  APPKAL  TO  AMERICA. 

Thou  wast  a  brilliant  mystery-  and  from  far, 
The  nations  of  the  earth  poured  into  thee. 
Thou  prospered  well,  now  four  wars, 
Stamped  upon  thy  flag,  but   these    four  wars, 
And  four  timesfourlarge  warsof  ancient  times, 
Could  not  shed  blood  enough  to  cover  up 
The  principle  that  underlies  the  greatest 
Of  all  wars,  that's  waged  by  thee 'gainst  thine, 
Andthoucould'st  with  one  stroke  exterminate. 
Thou  claimes't  to  be  a  Christian  country, 
And  rankest  with  highly  civilized  countries, 
And  there  is  nothing  in  the  category  of  crime, 
Or  in  the  history  of  savages  to  surpass  those- 
Fiendish,  blood-chilling    horrors    perpetrated 

against 
My  people  by  your  Christians.    The    southern 

mob, 

When  in  its  rage  feeds  its  vengancc  by  shoot 
ing, 

Stabbing  and  burning  men    alive,  which    only 
Some  disgusting  birds  and  beasts,  would  do. 
And  to  plead  "not  guilty"  is  a  waste  of  time, 
For  when  the  mob's  will  has  been  accomplish- 

ed, 

And  its  thirst  for  blood  has  by  its  bands  been 
quenched. 


.17. 1  A"  Ar/'KAL  To  AMKIilrA.  21:5 

And  the  victim  is  speechless,  silent,  dead, 
Then  the  moboeratic  amusers  have  the  ear   of 
The  world  all  to  themselves,    and  the  world 
Listens  to  them — because  thy    noble    govern 
ment, 

Planted  by  the  Pilgrim  Fathers,  Defended  by 
Noble  Washington  and   regenerated    by  God- 
sent  Lincoln — 

Urges  it  on  and  it  widens  as  the  waters 
Of  the  Mississippi  entering  the  great  gulf. 
And  those  am  users  who  so  bravelv  kill,   would 

V 

flee 

Like  Phantoms  if  brought  face  to  face  with  that 
Great  law  on  which  thv  forces  move. 

v 

The  foreigner 

Who  looks  across  the  sea,  and  never  comes, 
Thinks  thou  art  great,  magnanimous  and  brave, 
And  we  have  heartily  hoped  that  this  estimate, 
Would  soon  cease  to  be  contradicted.    Instead 

our 

Confidence  in  thy  nobility  as  a  nation  has  been 
Shaken — and  the  future  all  looks  dark 
And  troubled.  This  tends  to  dim  the  lustre 
Of  thy  noble  name  and  to  obliterate  the 
Cause  of  liberty  which  thou  hast  sung  to    the 

world. 


214  AJAX*  Al'I'KAL  TO  AMKRH'A. 

Thy  moral  sense  is  now  on  a  decline  and  we 
May  well  ask  the  question  "  how  low  "  someof 
Thy  safe  guards  are    swept    away.     Supreme 
Courts  are    surrendered,  State  sovereignly  i?» 
Restored,  Civil    rights    are    destroyed,    men 

are 

Lynched  like  beast  of  the  forest.     What  next  ? 
Emmigration  wont  save  us  for  we  are  convinced 
That  this  is  our  native  land.  Neither  will 
Colonization  redeem  us  for  we  are  colonized 
To  day  upon  the  land  that  gave  us    birth. 
Think,  O  America,  of  the  sublime  and  glorious 
Truths  with  which,  at  thy  birth,  thou  saluted 
A  listening  world.  Thy  voice  was  then  the 
Trump    of  an  archangel,  summoning    oppres 
sion, 
And  time-honored  tyranny  to  inherit  the  sweet 

V  V 

Freedom  of  thy  shores.  The  oppressed  flock 
ed  to  tbee. 

Crowned  heads  trembled,    toiling  millions 

Chipped  for  joy.  Brotherhood,  equality* liber 
ty, 

And  truth  were  the  inviting  feature*. 

You  redeemed  the  world  from  the  bondage 

Of  ages,  was  it  to  enslave  them  again? 

And  not  only  to  enslave  them  but  slaughter 


J./.-IA"  APPKAL  To  AM  Kit  Jr  A.  21.1 

than  the  unspeakable  Turks  do 
The  Armenians, or  the  dread  Spaniards 
Do  the  Cubans.   Are  th,e  horrors  of  Siberia, 
Against  the  thriving  Jew  to  be  exceeded 
By  thy  Christian  crimes? 

To  thee 

One  came  in  humble  guise,  upon  whose  brow 
A  sweet  harmonious  peace  in  beauty  shone. 
Towards  portals  of  peace,  the  heroic  Ida  Wells 
Reposed  within  thy  house,  and  talked  of  right. 
Oh,  had  thy  powers  then  but  heard  her  voice, 
And  trod  the  way  she  pointed, — then  with  thee 
This    darkness    would  have    ended, — and  this 

crime 
Which  hangs  about  thy  neck,  would  hang   no 

more. 
Rut,  hit-king  the  \vanu  hope    that    filled    her 

breast, 
To  cheer  the  rose-lipped  nymph  in  her     great 

work, 

She  down-cast  minded,  but  determined  soul 
Keptn  sujwrior  thought  and  crossed  the  sea. 
From  thy  great  name  she  could  have  told 
Of  the  bright  mansions  in  the  freeman's  land: 
<  )Yr  which  no  night  descended,  From  herlips, 
The  foreign  nations  could  have  learned    of  love 


216  AJAX*  APPEAL  TO  AMERICA. 

And  friendship,  such  as  this  lynched  land  of  ours 
Can  show  no  sign  or  symbol. 

Ida's  faith 

Was  weak  and  wavering,  and  she  opened  up 
The  eyes  of  Christian  nations  far  across  the 
Sea  who've  been  in  darkness  and  misled 
For  quite  a  while.  And  they  do  think  that 
When  a  nation's  moral  tone  is  on  the  decline, 
We  well  may  wonder  what  will  be  the  depth. 
Thou  art  declining  noble  state  !  and  the  breath 
Of  pestilence  among  thy  lynching  towns 
Sweeps  to  and  fro,  and  in  the  place, 
Where  Lincoln's  armies  rode,     there    lies     a 

shade, 

That  of  late  days  have  gathered  like  a  pall. 
A  midnight  hangs  upon  thee — not  alone 
This  lynching  crime,  but  the  dim  eclipse 
Of  moral  desolation.   Heaven's  frown 
Is  visible  around  thee.     Rise!  thou  wreck 
Of  s«lf  downfall,  and  call  upon  thy  God — 
If  alone,  so  that  those  within  thy  bound, 
This  land  so  dark  and  cheerless,  may  not 
See  the  bright  day  of  hope  in  gloom  go  down  I 
But  where  protection,  which  is  life  and    light, 
Broods  ever  like  the  grandure  of  the  stars, 
That  studs  the   summer    skies    of    boundless 

blue. 


.I./.I.V    1)  HAT  II.  217 


Ajax*  Death. 

(A  UKA.MA.) 
DKAMA1  IS  PERSON  vK  : 

ELI. 

KAMECII,  wife  of  ELI. 
A.TAX,  their  son. 
JOBEL  their  infant  child. 
Time— between  18'JO  and  11)00,  A.D. 
Scene — A  mountain  near  the  Mississippi  river 
where  no  one  inhabits. 

ELI. 

Its  awful  the  way  our  people  are  lynched. 
Its  a  shame  we  are  driven  to  this 
Desolate  place  to  save  our  lives,  simply 
Because  I  had  some  influence  among 
My  people  and  refused  to  use  it  to 
Suit  the  white  man  and  injure  my  people. 
I  hare  invoked  my  god  without  response. 
What  else  can  I  do? 

RAMKCII. 

Name  not  thy  gods,  for  I  condemn' them. 
For  they  have  urged  to  curse  thy  destiny, 
And  brought  on  us  this  dcsolatcspot  as  home. 


8  .17. 1  A"  ItKATIT. 

ELI. 

Don't  condemn  me,  O  Ramech !  I  may  err 
In  my  imploring,  bnt  should  I  not  pray? 

RAMKCII. 

Pray  to  the  God  above.  You  know  I  oft 
Remind  you  of  our  wickedness,  and  warn 
You  of  this  Southern  god,  the  white  man 
Of  this  degenerate  who  despises  you,  and 
Whom  I  despise  and  you  often  adore, 
But  I  will  not  rebuke  thee,  dear. 

ELI. 

For  six  long  days  have  we  been  in  this  place, 
Our  house  all  gone  and  of  our  stock, 
Notone  remains.  My  soul !  There  is  no  hope. 
Heaven  is  closed  and  Negro  men  must  die. 
Ramech  pray  to  your  God. 

RAMECH. 
I  have,  and  oft.  But  Eli  we  are  doomed! 

ELI. 

And  have  we  merited  this  fearful  death, 
This  slow  consuming  agony,  this  famine, 
Cold  and  pain,  and  O  my  God  still  more, 
This  inward  consciousness  of  griefs  stored  up 
Fora  long  time  yet!  Look  how  our  flocks 
Are  all  swept  off,  our  gathered  crops  ; 
Our  children  dead,  but  one,  and  we  as  outcasts 


.l./.LV  DEATH.  219 

From  our  homes  waiting  for  death  to  come 
We  were  betteroff  before  Abe  Lincoln  freed 
us. 

.Jo  BEL. 

Mama,  I  am  hungry.  Have  you  no  bread? 
My  feet  are  wet  and  cold. 

RAM ECU. 

My  precious  child!   I  have  no  bread. 
O  God  protect  my  child ! 
JOBEL. 

Some  bread  mama,  just  a  little  bread. 
My  feet  are  so  cold. 

RAMECH. 

(Falling  on  her  knees) 
()  precious  God ! 

Thou  knowest  the  secrets  of  our  hearts,  Thou 
Knowest  my  unworthiness.   Not  for  myself 
Ask  I  thy  mercy,  but  for  my  child.   Lord — 
O  spare  my  child,  my  precious  child. 
He  hath  not  wronged  the  lynchers. 

KLI. 

Hamech,  I  dreamed  last  night  that  our 
Long  departed  Ajax  had  got  home,  and 
Though  he  left  us  before  the  war  I  feel 
Somehow  he's  yet  alive  and  will 
Visit  us  before  we  die.    Its  thirtv-Hve 


II  .11  AX'  DKAT1I. 

Years  since  we've  seen  him,  he's  changed  I 
know. 

RAMECH. 

Heaven  forbid  that  he  should  come  to  us 
While  in  this  valley  of  sorrows. 

ELI. 

I  see  upon  the  river  a  skiff  which 
Contains  a  boy,  an  aged  looking  boy. 
And  from  my  heart  he  looks  much  like  our 
Ajax. 

RAMKCII. 

It  can't  be  so,  what,  Ajax,  Ajax 
The  lost  boy — long  before  old 
Abe  did  set  us  free  !     Eli  you  dream. 
(A  long  silence) 

ELI. 

That's  him,  he's  coming  to  die  with  us. 
Ajax  comes  up. 

RAMECH. 

Ajax  my  boy  !   Whence  comest  thou? 
Where  have  you  been?  Hast  thou  forgotten 
me? 

(Fa! Is  in  his  anfls) 

AJAX. 

No  mother,  dear;  how  could  that  be? 
Thank  God  we've  met  but  near  our    family 
grave, 


AJ.  I  A"  ItKATII.  221 

Father,  ere  this,  is  ripe  in  age.  lie  was 
In  his  sixtieth  year  when  Grant  fought  so. 

YAA. 
Ajax,  what  have  you  son,  we  perish. 

A.TAX. 

Nothing  have  I:  big  piles  I  had  but 

In  this  land  of  lynching  what  ever  we  have 

We  have  not.  Thelynchers  envied  my 

Success  and  it  was  left  with  me 

To  lose  my  life  or  mv  earthly  wealth. 

I  took  the  one  you  see  me  with  here. 

ELI. 

I'm  old,  I'm  cold,  I'm  hungry,  I'm  dying, 
I  yield  to  all. 

RAMKCII. 

(irie\«  not,  \ve  shall  not  die  of 
Hunger.    Before  another  night  thelynchers 
Will  be  here.     They  want  our  blood 
Because  itis  innocent  blood.   Lets  mot  repine. 

JOHE£. 

Mother  I'm  sick,  this  ground  is  wet  to  me. 

KAMKCII. 

To  sec  tlier  suffer  in  the  bloom  of  life, 
Thou  whom  I  watched  arid  cheered  to 
Sec  ihcc  perish  thus-— ()  (iod — . 


222  AJ  A  A"  DEATH. 

JOBEL. 

Mama  I'm  cold — has  the  bread  come? 
RAMKCII  . 

0  for  the  days  when  as  a  slave  I  worked. 
Thy  life  would  then  be  spared.  But  Lincoln 
Freed  us.  Why  are  we  not  free  now? 

Is  Lincoln  yet  alive,  and  Grant?  O  God 
Blot  these  remarks  from  my  memory. 
She  weeps. 

AJAX. 

Mother,  fret  not  o'er  thoughts  like  these 
Let  us  pray  God  and  wait  our  doom. 

RAMECH. 

My  Lord.     My  infant  child  and  I  once 
Thought  that  you  were  dead.     But  tell  me 
How  did  you  live,  we  waited  long  for 
Thee  to  come  but  all  in  vain. 

A.i  AX. 

We  parted — sold  as  mules.     You 
With  my  father's  owner,  he  in  another  drove. 
And  I  in  a  disgraceful  to  some  one  else. 

1  kept  up  with  you  all,  until 

The  mighty  struggle  came  that  freed 
Us  all  and  effaced  your  whereabouts. 
I  started  out  in  search  of  you  and 
Prosperity.     I  lived  (juite  well  but 


.17. 1  A"  I) EM  II.  ^:$ 

Seeking  higher  si  ill,  the  white  man 
Envied  me,  and  hence  my  life  was  his 
When  he  saw  fit,  and  eighteen  years, 
I've  wandered  up  and  down  this  world 
In  search  of  one  dear  spot  where  I  could 
Rest  in  peace.     It  must  be 
Here  to  die  with  you.     At  first 
I  feared  to  land. 

0  God,  this  lynching  world  is  full  of  sin. 

RAMECH. 

Despite  our  griefs,  I  will  believe,  dear  boy, 
That  Providence  hath  brought  thee  here   to 

me. 
That  we  might  die  together. 

A.TAX. 

Mother  what  awful  sights  I've  seen— 

1  oft  have  wished  that  I  had  died  when  young, 
Before  this  dreadful  calamity.  My  blood 
Don't  move,  my  mind  deranged  turns,  at 

what 

I've  seen  this  day.     The  carcases  of 
Men  with  that  of  oxen,  sheep  and  hogs — 
Did  float  together  down  the  stream. 
I  saw  two  brothers  take  a  stand  for  right 
And  there  ihev  stood,  until  the  lynchers 
('nine — and  made  the  one  take  the  life 


224  AJAX1  DEATH. 

Of  the  other — murder  his  mother's  son, 
The  one  who  did  this  work  to  save  his  life 
Lay  down  exhausted.      Then  the  lynchers 

took 

His  life  by  slow  process  and  left  him  there. 
The  famished  buzzards  came  to  his  rescue 
And  tore  the  quivering  flesh.       In  vain  the 

man 
Fought  this  ntw  foe  till  breath  was  gone. 

w  t? 

ELI. 
Didst  thou  see  this? 

A.1AX. 

That  is  not  half. 

RAMKCII. 

Then  name  it  not.     I've  heard  enough. 
I'm  sick  at  heart. 

AJAX. 
I  saw — my  God  I  cannot  tell. 

ELI. 

Tell  on.     The  woes  of  others  told  to  us 
May  steel  us  to  our  own. 

AJAX. 

I  saw  a  barge  of  logs  loaded  down, 

With  human  beings,    manacled,    emaciated, 

Ghastly.    They  sang  and  howled  out  prayers, 


AJAX1  DEATH.  225 

And  curses  and  laughter.     It  was  horrid. 
With  hauds  outstretched,  they  beckoned  me 
To  come,  but  I  stood  off  and  watched 
And  heads  of  men  were   thrown    at    me    in 

rage. 

I  further  noticed  a  partly  eaten  body 
Mangled  and  bruised.     I  shrieked  aloud. 
And  then  I  saw  a  sight  that  captured  all. 
A  mother,  deathly  clad,  who  in  her  arms, 
Upheld  a  child.     She  cast  her  eyes  on  high, 
And  then  she  cast  her  infant  from  her. 
It  sank  beneath  the  waves  and  was  gone. 
A  mother  drowned  her  own  dear  child. 

RAMECH. 
My  God  this  lynching  world. 

AJAX. 

Hush  ?     I  hear  the  howl  of  dogs. 

ELI. 

My  son,  'tis  but  the  winds.     No  human 
Being  in  this  wild  place  save  us.     And  the 
"  Star  Spangled  Banner"  as  that  say  goes 
Doesn't  wave  here.     Me  think  that    song's 
a  myth. 

AJAX. 
Again  I  hear  the  dogs.     I'm  not  deceived. 

15 


226  AJAX*  DEATH. 

Mother  I  dreamed  last  night  I  saw 

A  mountain  moving  on  the  waves, 

And  it  had  all  the  semblance  of  a  house, 

And    my    bewildered    mind  beheld    unreal 

things. 

By  one  of  the  windows  I  saw  a 
Gray  haired  man  stand  mute  as  death 
And  by  his  side  I  saw  one  young  in  years 
His   eyes    toward  hcaren  turned  :   and  then 

again 

He  hid  his  face  hehind  his  hands 
As  if  in  sorrow. — And  behold  the    old    man 
Turned  his  back  to  him. 

ELI. 

That  means  but  this — that  God  in  heaven 
Has  turned    against  us,    and    our   doom  is 

sealed. 

And  I  will  wait  my  hour  in  silence. 
Fain  would  I  curse,  fain  would  I  kill  nryself , 
Would  I  could  die  !  Already  have  I  lived 
Too  long — Hunger — Fear,  my  daily  fiends  ! 
Twelve  days  I've  fought  you  bravely  to  be 
Subdued  at  last  by  thee. 

JOBEL. 
How  cold  it  is. 


AJAX'  DEATH.  227 

ELI. 

Is  that   a    human    carcass   floating  on    the 
water?     Look  Ajax,  look! 

AJAX. 

The  body  of  a  lynched  man.  Could  I 
But  reach  it,  and  eat  once  more  before 
I  die. 

ELI. 

Go  get  it  Ajax.     Thou  art  a  swimmer. 
(  Ajax  reaches  the  water  and  a   band   of  lynchers    rush 
from  the  bushes  and  grab  him.) 

AJAX. 

Oh  father  help  me!     The  devil  has  me. 
The  carcass  had  its  spies.     Help !    Murder ! 
ELI. 

(  Hushes  to  his  son's  rescue,  with  his  silvery  locks  dang 
ling  in  his  fuce.  He  rushes  in  their  midst  and  grasps 
his  boy.  The  lynchers  spear  his  aged  body  as  if  it  was 
a  beast.) 

Help,  for  I  am  stabbed.     My  God  these 
Bloodv  Ivnchers — But  wherefore  call 

V1  V 

For  help  when  none  can  aid.     Ramech  fare 
well  ! 

Jobcl,  my  child  farewell ! 

(The  father  and  sou  are  lynched.) 

RAMECH. 

O  Eli !     Ajax  !     My  God  of  heaven. 
(She  weeps  aloud.) 


2'2S  AJAX'  DEATH. 

JOBEL. 

Mamma,  why  do  you  weep?    Where  is    my 
Papa?     Has  he  gone  to  get  me  some  water? 

RAMECH. 

My  precious  child.     My  husband  and  my  son 
Are  gone  and  the  lynchers  will  surely  be 
After  you.     I  hear  them  shriek  for  blood. 
But  I  am  nerved  to  die. 
JOBEL. 

Why  don't  my  papa  come?     I  dreamed 
He  brought  me  some  bread  and  you 
Dear  mamma  and  I  were  in  a  house. 

RAMECH. 

Sleep  again  my  child,  and  in  thy  dreams 
Forget  the  ills  of  earth    and  reign  on  high. 
Oh  God,  please  Thou  forgive  my  sins, 
And  let  me  die ;   but  Father  spare  my  child  ! 
He  hath  not    sinned.       Hush!  the  lynchers 

come. 

They  took  my  husband  and  my  son. 
Ain't  that  enough?     Why  trouble  me? 
I  hear  the  howl  of  dogs. 
JOBEL. 
My  papa  won't  come.     O  mamma — 

RAMECH. 
My  soul  the  lynchers  are  upon  me! 


A/JA"  DHAT1L  229 

O  precious  God!     To  Thee  I  yield  my  soul, 
Do  take  my  helpless  child. 

( The  Lynohers  rush  upon  her.) 
My  child!      My  own  dear  child! 

JOBEL. 

Mamma  it  is  so  cold.     Have  you 
No  bread  for  me?     Where  is    my   mamma? 
Mamma — Mamma — Mamma. 


But  during  this  mighty  struggle  with 

Ajax  and  his  foes, 
He  and  one  man  fighting  for  life  had 

drifted  from  the  shore. 
And  Ajax  fought  a  brave  man's  fight 

against  a  watery  grave, 
Exhausted  down  he  seized  some  planks 

adrift  upon  the  waves. 
He  stepped  upon  his  rescu'd  ship  with 

clothes  all  dripping  wet, 
And  blood  from  every  garment  fell,  his 

eyes  the  white  man's  met. 
Death  had  pressed  him  closely  and 

precious  was  rach  second — 
Two  hands  from  out  the  water   reached,  his 

eyes  toward  Ajax  beckoned. 


230  AT  AX'  DEATH. 

There  was  the    bloodless    pallor  of  a  wretched 

drowning  man 
With    mouth  all  gaping,   eyes   bloodshot  and 

hair  on  end  did  stand. 
The    struggling    white  man    exhausted    from 

trying  to  kill  Ajax 
Was    fighting    with  water,  now   his   strength 

was  all  relaxed. 
He  cried'*  I    perish    my  dear  sir,  give    me    a 

helping  hand." 
And  Ajax's  heart  was  melted    down    he   drew 

him  to  a  stand. 
And  Ajax  said,  "You've  treated  me  as  though  I 

were  a  pup, 
I  give  you  good    for  evil — I    in    God's    name 

bring  you  up." 
And  Ajax  heard  his  mother  shriek — afar  upon 

the  shore, 
And  tears  gushed  down  bis  bleeding   cheeks, 

"injGod  can  it  be  so?" 
The  planks  were  drifting  further  and    further 

down  the  river, 
And  Ajax  turned  to  bis   shipmate   and    these 

words  did  deliver: 
"  The  shrieking  voice   you   hear  comes   from 

niv  mother's  bleeding  heart — 


.I./.1A"  DKATlf.  231 

It  is  a  shrill  and  helpless  roice,  it    makes    HIT 

senses  start. 
My  mother  murdered,  butchered  and  my  aged 

father  slain, 
Their  infant  child   is    murdered   to,    ought   I 

silent  remain? 
Can  it  be  true  that  I  have  saved  your  wretched, 

wicked  life, 
While  others  of   your   gang   have   killed    my 

father  and  his  wife? 
You  heathen  of  the   white-skin'd    tribe,    you 

sit  down  there  and  wonder 
I've  robb'd  grim  death  by   saving   you,    your 

watery  grave  I've  plundered. 
I've  prayed  to  God  for  vengeance  through  all 

these  dreary  years 

I've  gathered  patience  from  my  friends  relat 
ing  all  their  fears. 

My  assailants  have  been  many  and  my  defend 
ers  few, 
But  now  we  stand  as  man  to  man,  sir,    should 

I  murder  jou  ? 
Grim  death  keeps  secrets  better  than  the  mass 

of  living  men, 
The  river  waves  will  gladlj   take   you   to   the 

fishy  den. 
Then  I  could  dive  down  in  the  waves   and  be, 

myself,  at  rest. 


232  AJAX'  DEATH. 

And   your   dear  lynchers   seeking   me    would 

vainly  beat  their  breast, 
And  though  they  are  good  hunters  of  the  blood 

of  Negro's  vein, 
There  they    would    follow — long    and    far   to 

ne'er  find  my  domain. 
Consider,  as  I  do,  sir,  what  the  river's    waves 

would  be 
In  contrast  of  the  life,  my  peer,  which   now  I 

give  to  thee. 
And  I  am  now  adrift,  afloat  in    the    marts   of 

the  world, 
And  if  the  lynchers  can  catch  me  my    soul    to 

wind'll  be  hurled. 
If  all  the  demons  of  your   race    could   gather 

'round  us  now, 
Sir,  all  my  pleading  would  not  keep  cold  death 

from  my  hot  brow. 

But  man  was  made  for  life's  battle,  and  some 
times  life  is  fate, 
To  every  man    that   breathes  a    breath   death 

cometh  soon  or  late. 
And  how  could  you  die  better,  sir,  than    by    a 

hand  like  mine, 
For  all  my  race's  punishment  by  all  your  race's 

crimes? 


AJAT  DEATH.  2  :« 

And  could  I  die  a    nobler  death    than    facing 

fearful  odds 
For  vengeance  of   my  father  and    my   mother 

'neath  the  sod; 
And  for  those  tender  mothers  with  their  babies 

at  their  breast 
Whose  husbands  died  the    death    of    dogs    at 

your  race's  behest? 

O!  no,  my  mother's  noble  form    lies    not    be 
neath  the  sod, 
Its  now  a  prey  for  buzzards'  feast,  you  wicked 

wretch  !     My  God ! 
I  have  been  at  your  mercy,  sir,    jou   tried   to 

take  my  life. 
I  have  no  hope  of  your  favor,  for  you  I    have 

no  rife. 
I  could  kill  you  and  cast   your    form    beneath 

the  rolling  \raves 
But  I  urn  human,  so  -ire  you,  I'm   not    to    kill 

but  save." 
The  white  man  set  there  calm  as  death   he  ut- 

ter'd  not  a  word. 
It  seemed  his  frame  \ras    void    of    breath    his 

soul  was  all  bestirred. 
He  never  gave  an  earnest  look  he  did  not  even 

wink. 


234  AJAX*  DEATH. 

And  Ajax  said,  "  These  circumstances  do  make 

my  conscience  think. 
O  white  man  !   have  you  any  heart  and  did  you 

ever  sigh, 
And  did  your  senses  ever  start  to  see  a  Negro 

die? 
Consider  now  the  torture  and  the    cruelty    on 

my  race, 
Look  at  my  mother's  cruel   death,  her    infant 

child  effac'd. 
Come  go  with  me  to  Texas  and  see  those    red 

hot  irons — 
That  burn'd  the  eyes  and  mouths  of  men  and 

made  them  roar  like  lions. 
And  how  the  lynch'd  men  bellow'd  like  a   cow 

in  deep  distress, 
And  how  the  lynchers  laugh'd  and  took   it   in 

with  minds  at  rest. 
Oh !  how  the   men  did    struggle    to   loose  the 

lynchers'  chain. 

Oil!  how  thej  howl'd  like  mad  men,  their  ef 
forts  were  in  vain. 
The  guards  had  gone  upstairs  to  rest,  women 

and  children  came 
To  view  the  scene  with  idle  jest,  and  they  were 

not  asham«d. 


.I//LV  DK.\m.  283 

The  angels  'round  the  thron«  of  God  h:ul  turn'd 
their  backs  to  earth, 

NVith  hearts  melted  away  in  tears  at  sight  of 
Texas  mirth. 

This  land  of  brutal  cowards  still  lack  the  moral 
backbone, 

The  moral  courage,  moral  strength  to  drive  a 
villian  home. — 

To  even  lift  a  finger  or  to  raise  a  warning  crj, 

They  stand  in  silent  pleasure  and  gaze  on  the 
Negro  die. 

And  in  the  shadow  of  the  church  human  be 
ings  are  burned, 

From  Sunday-schools  the   children    rush   this 

•/ 

wickedness  to  learn. 
They  gather  'round  to  take  a  smell  of  burning 

human  flesh, 
They  cheer  the  scene    and    make   the   spot   a 

place  of  sacred  mesh. 
For  him  to   plead,    when    all    the   hearts    his 

keenest  prayer  could  probe, — 
Are  but  a  breath  of  ether  in  the  space  around 

the  globe. 

It's  no  more  than  a  ripple  to  the  roaring  water 
fall, 
It's  a  snow-flake  in  the    valley  to     the    cloud 

that  cover*  all. 


233  AJAX'  DEATH. 

There'?*  no  protest,  there's  no  rebuke,  there's 

not  a  single  cry  — 
Fished  from  the  pools  of  blood  and    wrong  to 

touch  the  nation's  eye. 
The  world  now  sits  in  judgement  and  could  the 

nations  plead 
This  land  would  be  a    criminal    of    the  vilest 

kind  of  deeds. 
Could  Ida  Wells  have  raised  a  force  to    follow 

her  crusade 
This  dreadful  crime,    long    ere    this    time    in 

darkness  would  be  laid. 
If  Frances  Willard  and  her  host  would  help  to 

raise  the  cry, 
Intemperate    lynchings   ghastly    ghost  would 

fade  away  and  die. 
For  when  a  woman  makes  a  vow  that  she    will 

do  a  thing 

She's  sure  to  win,  or  else  she'll    make  oppon 
ents  conscience  ring. 

Few  men  of  crime  can  stand    to   break    a  wo 
man's  heart,  perchance, 
Some  nations  chang'd  their  ship  of  state  upon 

a  woman's  glance. 
Fair  Helen  seal'd  the  fate  of  Troy  and  queens 

of  ancient  times 
Have  led    brave  hearts  in  cause  of   truth    and 

made  the  wrong1  decline. 


AJAX'  DEATH.  237 

Some  noble,  stalwart  woman  have  in  every  time 

and  place, 
Wielded  her  influence,  good  or  bad,  upon  the 

human  race. 
If  all  the  noble  women  who    have    a  Christian 

heart, 
While  .sitting  by  the  fireside    would    take    an 

active  part, 
And  have  a  gen'ral  family  talk  about  the  ship 

of  state, 
And  speak  of  what   the    states    should    do  to 

have  a  union  great-- 
And  speak  of  how  almighty  God  was    looking 

from  the  sky- 
Down  on  the  doings  of  each    one.     He   heard 

the  lynch'd  man's  sigh, 
More  husbands  and  more   sons    will    go    away 

from  sacred  homo  — 
With  purer  thoughts  and  higher  aims   and    of 

a  Christian  tone — 
'Till  ships  of  church  and  ships  of  state  will  all 

be  till'd  with  men 
With  Christian    hearts,    with    humane  minds, 

with  works  oppos'd  to  sin. 
Then   there'd    be    more    McKinley    hearts   as 

governor  of  .-lutes. 


238  AJAX'  DEATH. 

To  see  that  men  obeyed  the  laws  which   they 

themsehres  would  make 
Then  ev'ry  gov'nor  would    be   tit  to   make    a 

president 
The  whit*  house  then  would  ever  have  *  man 

with  good  intent. 
Then  lynching  crimes  would  melt  away  as   ice 

in  summer's  heat, 
Then  we  could  praise  this  ship    of  state,    this 

union  strong  and  great. 
For  many  years  my  race  has  been  a    universal 

target, 
They  never  try  to  find  the  part  that's  crimson, 

bright  and  scarlet, 
In  all  of  the  affairs  of  life  enormous  fads  have 

spent 

All  of  their  forces  upon  him  to  bring  our  dis 
content. 
All  those  unhappy  phrases  they  should  try  to 

set  aright, 
Are  dwelt  upon  with  mighty  force  to  make    as 

dark  as  night, 

A  just  investigation,  to  show  the  brighter  side, 
Is  never  made  by  those  who  strive  forever    to 

deride. 
TheNegro's  moral  standard,  sir,  has  never  been 

as  low 


.1.7 .-I  A"  DEA'I  II.  239 

As  tho.se  destructive  lyncher's  hearts  who  nev 
er  try  to  know 
Whether  it  was  a  crime  or  not  they're  simply 

satisfied 
To  pass  their  own  meek  judgment,  they  crurc 

the  Negro's  hide. 
There's    no   class    in    America   whose    moral 

pathway's  fill'd 
With  thorns  as  is  the   Negro's  and    he    must 

tread  at  will. 
American    Christianity's    not    recognized    by 

Him 
Who  came  to  earth  to  die  for    man    and   gire 

him  Christian  trim. 
II«r  body's  broken  by  disease  her    conscience 

soared  with  crimes. 

A  mind  and  soul  of  cruelty  to  cap   tht   heath 
en  climes. 
And  in  the  light  of  all  these  things  it  is  a  poor 

spirit 
To  point  with  Christian  horror  but  ne'er   try 

to  prohibit. 
Ah!  what  a  reckless  nation,  what  an  undiscip- 

lin'd  child 
Noble,  but  sometimes  tricky,  doing  somethings 

that  are  wild. 


240  AJAX'  DEATH. 


*       *      *      * 


A  freeman    am  I,  must  I  die  a  slave  adrift    at. 

sea, 
Or  must  I  live  as  master's  dog  to    whimper  at 

his  plea. 
And  must  I  crawl  down  at  his   feet,  and  must 

1  lick  his  hands? 
Poor  Ajax'    cheeks    did   flush    with   heat  he 

ground  his  teeth  like  sand. 
By  Jove,  by  thunder,  by  the  gods,  I'd  rather 

herd  with  wolves, 
And  seek  the  lion's  friendship    and    to    tigers 

make  my  love, 
Then  I  could  marshal  all  their  strength  against 

the  cursed  mob, 
And  teach  them  how  it  felt  to  give   a   beast    a 

wailing  sob. 
To  all  my  sorrows  I  would    add  those   of  my 

punished  race, 
And  devote  myself  to  vengeance  upon  this  black 

disgrace. 
And  I  would  pray  to  all  the  gods,  the  gods  both 

good  and  bad 
To  lend  me  their  special  terrors  to  ridicule  this 

fad. 
I'd  ask  for  tempest, heat  and  cold,  for  drought, 

for  wild  beast's  lair, 


AJAX'  DEATH.  241 

And  all  th«  poison  of  the   land   that   men   let 

loose  in  air — 
And  all  the  thousand  other  things  that  quickly 

put  to  sleep — 
Of  which  men  die  on  sea  and  land,   my    God ! 

why  should  I  weep? 

My  feelings  are  not  vagary  as  a    sensitive   lad 
But  reas'ning  of    suffering  manhood   to   give 

endurance  sad. 
Every  age  has  its  sorrows  and  O,  the    ills   of 

time, 

No  parallel  in  human  life  to  match  this  lynch 
ing  clime, 
My  spirit  never  goes  to  sleep  I  cannot   rest  at 

night, 
A  dog  remembers,  long,  a  wrong,  he  knows  a 

friend  at  sight. 
I  have  a  book  of  great  events,  I'll    write   this 

voyage  down 
That  men  may  know  what  I  have  seen  and  try 

its  depths  to  sound. 
My  mother,  father  all  are  gone  and  I    in    this 

wild  wood, 
My  wife  and  child  sev Vd  from  me,    all    gone 

but  my  manhood. 

I  never  hope  to  h'nd  them  now  amid   my   anx 
ious  fears 

u 


242  AJAX'  DEATH. 

•  •  i 

As  "Ben  Hur"  found  his  jewels    after   eight 

long  grieving  years. 
He  found  his  precious    mother  and  his  sister 

with  disease 

From  out  a  wicked  dungeon  he  brought   them 
,  to  release. 

•>  >  t  • 

But  dungeons  where  the  lynchers   place   the 

prison'd  corpse  of  man 

' '      :     •  * "  • 

The  buzzard  sailing  in  the  air   has   all    at  his 

command. 
O  white  man!  Qan't  I  probe  from  you  a  single, 

tender  sob? 
And  won't  you  help  me   pray    one   prayer   to 

your  Almighty  God  ? 
"OGod!  give  me  a  little  faith  and    into    my 

darkness — 
That's  deeper  darkening  every  day,  O  send  a 

light  of  rest. 
All  hopes  deal  with  the  future   Lord,    I    hope 

for  better  days , 
And  while   I'm  drifting  down  the  tide,    guide 

me  the  right  of  way." 
Laurels  of  this  world  may  be  sweet   but    they 

soon  pass  away. 
j 

We  have  no  laurels  as  a  race,  are  they  in  com 
ing  days? 


AJAX*  DEATH.  243 

Like  those  colossal  tombs  of   old   on   drifting 

n 

desert  sands 
They  cast  .shadows  'cross   the  cent'ries   then 

crumble  to  the  land. 
This  country  in  a   prosperous   stage   will  yet 

come  to  a  halt, 
And  see  the  depths  of  this  outrage  and  remedy 

the  fault. 

When  time  lies  down  fore'er  to  sleep  at  eter 
nity's  feet, 
And  vanities,    pomps,    more  creep  upon   the 

stage  so  sweet— 
And  stars  of  heaven  have  all  gone  out  of  their 

ethereal  home 

The  eternal  hand,  unseen  by  us  across  this  land 

•11  »» 

will  roam. 


The  evening  shade   was   gathering   now,    the 

surging  waters  rollM. 
And  Ajax  felt  the  cool  ni^ht  wind,  it   seemed 

to  fan  his  soul. 
Unruly  winds    began    to   cease   and  zephyr's 

breezes  rose 
The  lotus  plant   from    water's   depths    beforo 

his  ga/e  roposcd. 
The  solemn  river  loiter'd  on  its  way  quite  un- 

coBoerned, 


244  AJAX'  DEATH. 

The  palm  trees  shook  their  nodding  heads  and 

stoop' d  to  greet  the  fern. 
The  Jackall  slipping  on  the  bank  knew  Ajax' 

skin  was  black 
He  snapp'd  his  teeth  he  thought  t' was  law  his 

fleshless  bones  to  crack : 
The  guiding  stars  began  to  show,  the  day  went 

into  night 
And  like  a  phantom  ship  at  sea   they  drifted 

out  of  sight. 
The  planks,  call'd  ship  on    which   they   rode, . 

went  calmly  down  the  river — 
And  no  one  knows  unto  this   da}-  which   was 

the  longest  liver. 
Did  Ajax  kill  the  white  man?  O  no,  his  heart 

was  tender ! 
Did  white  man  kill  poor  Ajax?  his   heart    was 

rash  as  timber ! 
Did  both  of  them  drift  to  the  gulf  and  make  a 

feast  for  whales ; 
Did  both  of  them  escape  and  shall  we  yet  hear 

both  their  tales? 
If  poor  Ajax  i*  yet  alive  and  dwells    upon   the 

land, 
He'll  write  a  book  to    shake   this  world    and 

make  men  understand. 

Dominm  Vobiscitm. 


216  CONTENTS. 


CONTENTS. 


At  My   Mother's  Grave,      -  9 

A  Human  Artist,      -        -        -            -        -  -         118 

Alone  with  Jesus,        -  ...        104 

Best  Things  in  the  World,        -  77 

Cain  and  Abel,  36 

Christmas  Gift,  127 

Class  Valedictorian,  -        133 

Consolation,  31 

Deception,  -  88 
Dedication,  -  -  3 
Douglass  Dead,  -  -  41 

Fashion,  -  108 
Fixed  Love,  -  -  94 

Fleeting  Spring,  -  129 
From  Degradation  Through  Supplication  to 

Education,        -        -  79 

Harper,  Mrs.  Frances  E.  33 

Just  Married,  -        123 

Hurrah  for  McKinley,  -        58 

Lincoln's  Call,  -        57 

Life's  What  We  Make  It,  32 

Life  Pictures,  -        125 

Love's  Labor  Lost,  -        87 

Love  Regained,       -  90 

Love  and  Fear  Contest,      -  92 

Man's  Imperfections,  -        47 

Maceo— Cuba's  Liberator,  -        71 

Mother's  Songs,  -        21 

Mother's  Rage,        -  196 


VONTKXT*.  247 

Moth  -rly  Emotions, 

Memory  of  Mother, 

Maid  and  Mosquito, 

Mitgnii  est  reritux, 

Miss  Snowflake  and  the  Lovers,  97 

My  Bible,  1(K5 

My  Sweetheart, 

Negroes' "  America,"        .  128 

New  Year's  Greeting, 

Only, 

"Our  Country," 

Payne,  Bishop  Daniel, 

Preamble, 

Preface, 

Quietude, 

Sum  Jones,  116 

Sonnet— October,  ™ 

Spotless, 

Stowe,  Harriet  Beecher's  Works,  64 

Stowe,  Harriet  Beecher's  Monument,  69 

Strong  Drink,  1H 

The  Call  that  All  must  Obey,  60 

The  Easter  Man,  43 

The  Model  Girl, 

The  Trip  I'd  Like  To  Take,  99 

Time— Eternity,  14° 

Uncle  Tom's  Cabin,  64 

Voice  from  the  South, 

Woman  In  Cimgn-.— . 

Y.  M.  C.  A.  Founder,  ?~> 

PART  SE<;ONI>. 

Childn-ns'  Corm-r. 

1  Kisses,  139 


248  CONTENTS. 

Children*'  ^  iy,  160 

Children  and  Mother,  146 

A  Chat  With  the  Boys,  152 

Excelsior,  160 

God  Sees,  145 

Heart  Thieves,  142 

He  Knoweth  and  Loveth  You,  153 

Industry  In  Children,  -        154 

Santa  Claus  on  New  Year's  Day,        -    .                          148 

Telephone  to  Heaven,  -        153 

The  Simple  Reason,  169 

The  Time  of  the  Singing  of  Birds,  -                                141 

Vacation's  Ending,        -  156 

Where  Are  the  Boys,  162 

PAKT  THIKD. 

Ajax'  Dreain,  180 

Ajax'  Second  Dream,  183 

Ajax'  Fright,  186 

Ajax'  Soliloquy,  188 

Ajax'  Kindred's  Soliloquy,  189 

Ajax'  Monument,  191 

Ajax'  Song,  192 

Ajax'  Meditations,  194 

Ajax'  Bashfulness,  198 

Ajax  Looks  Beyond,  -                          200 

Ajax  votes  for  McKinley,  201 

Ajax'  Conclusion,  204 

Ajax  is  Chastised,  206 

Ajax   at  the  Centenial,  207 

Ajax'  Appeal  to  America,  211 

Ajax' Death— (A  drama.)  217 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


Form  L9-100m-9,'52(A3105)444 


THE  LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF 

LOS  ANGELES 


Coffin  - 


13^7         Coffin's  poems 

C661A17 , 

1B97 


111  iiiiiiiiii  mil  inn 
A    001375912 


PS 

1357 

C661A17 

1897 


